


Save Your Loving Arms for a Rainy Day

by tigersbride



Series: Hollywood [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Best Friends, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Child Abuse, Coming In Pants, Dean Has Nightmares, Dean Has Panic Attacks, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Gay Castiel, Gay Panic, Hand Jobs, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Inappropriate Erections, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Practice Kissing, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Spin the Bottle, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 88,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigersbride/pseuds/tigersbride
Summary: Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been best friends since they were four years old, and Mary was still fresh in her grave. Castiel isn't an idiot. He knows that the feelings he has for his best friend probably don't count as platonic, but Dean, as ever, is in complete denial.The worst part? He's always had to be in denial.Aside from being constantly tortured by mixed up emotions, he's also constantly tortured at home by his only surviving parent.Prequel to Breathe, but you definitely don't need to have read that first.





	1. Prologue: "I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Their life was not a bad one, but it certainly wasn’t as perfect as it might look from the outside. Mary Winchester had had a good start in life, and everything seemed to fall into place when she met John. She’d been waitressing some years ago when she’d met him, and their romance had been a whirlwind one full of passion and excitement. Until she’d ended up pregnant, and he’d put a ring on her finger with all the enthusiasm of a kid in exam season. He did love her, she knew, but it hadn’t been his plan. He’d had aspirations, before.

John wasn’t a dream husband, and he was a worse father to their two young boys. But she took it all, every blow, and she wouldn’t let him near the children if he was in one of his moods, because she was worried at times what he’d do if Dean piped up with a question or Sammy started to cry. His temper was awful. She knew he blamed her for missing out on all of the opportunities life could have presented to him. She knew he thought she was the reason why he didn’t end up passing his entrance exam to the police. She knew she and the boys were the reason he went out drinking most nights, and she knew that when he stayed out he was probably in some other woman’s arms. 

But she’d made a vow, one she intended to keep. ’Til death do us part. 

 

*

 

“Dean?!” His mom’s voice called out in panic, and the little boy with tears on his cheeks came rushing out to the landing. The smell of smoke was in the air and it was choking him, and he could see the flames, tall and high and so bright. Pretty, really. But hot. Mommy said fire was hot. His eyes met his mom’s, and he wanted to go to her, be picked up and held and told everything was fine but somehow he knew nothing was fine. He couldn’t even reach her. Those bright pillars of fire were in the way. He was so scared.  

“Baby, you need to go get Sammy, ok? You need to get Sam, and you need to wait for me outside.” 

“Ok.” His voice was small, but then he was only four years old. Everything about him was small. “Mommy I’m scared. Won’t you come with me?” 

“Don’t be scared Dean, but I can’t come right now. I’ll see you outside.” Mary lied. A chunk of the ceiling had fallen and crushed her leg. She could no more move than she could walk through the fire. “Go get your brother, and go outside.” She begged. 

Her young son was crying, and her youngest son was still in his crib, helpless and trapped behind the wooden bars, screaming, she could hear him. She had to keep trying, had to convince him. She couldn’t let her children die too. “Go, Dean, please. Do this for mommy.” 

It was with relief but utmost sorrow that she watched him nod. Watched her son walk away from her for the last time. 

Dean opened the door to Sam’s room, and flicked the latch that let the bars to Sam’s crib fall down. The baby, barely a year old, was crying, and he held his arms out to his brother automatically. Dean put his arms around his back and lifted. He was getting heavier, but Dean made his way down the stairs and out of the front door. He didn’t know what to do next. His mom had said she’d meet him there, so he waited, dropped his brother to the ground and held him there. Sammy had calmed down a little in his brother’s arms. 

Minutes passed, but it might as well have been hours. Dean was so young that everything felt like an age, and when their neighbour came running outside, and scooped them into her arms, he felt so scared and confused that he let her lead them across the street, away from the burning building that was spitting sparks like there was no tomorrow. 

“I’ve called the fire department.” The elderly (or perhaps middle aged, children weren’t great at guessing ages) woman was telling him. 

“My mommy’s in there.” He said, because although mom told him never to talk to strangers she wasn’t here and he was scared. The poor boy couldn’t have understood that the roof had already caved in and his mom may have been in there but there was no chance she was still alive. 

“Where is your father?” The woman asked, not willing to tell the children the truth. 

“I don’t know.” Dean said honestly. He never knew. John worked, yes. But tonight he was at a bar, drinking himself stupid and hooking up with another woman. He was just a kid, of course, so he didn’t know that either. 

“My mommy’s in there.” Dean repeated desperately, and he was crying again. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

 

*

 

Two months after the rebuild, there came a knock on the door. Dean watched from midway up the stairs as his father answered, and he eyed the small child standing behind the legs of his mother with curiosity. 

“We’ve just moved in across the street.” The friendly woman explained, and in her arms she was holding out something that smelled like cherry pie - his favourite. The kid with almost black hair and pretty blue eyes had spotted him now, was watching him with almost a pout because he didn’t understand why his mom had baked all of these pies and was giving them away to other kids. But he was interested now, in the boy on the stairs who was watching him with a small smile on his face. They were probably about the same age, and about the same height. Dean pulled a face, and the dark haired boy giggled.

“What’s your name?” The friendly woman had seen him now too, was beaming up at him and Dean went suddenly shy. “This is Castiel, and I’m Evelyn.” She said. “Don’t be scared. Maybe you two would like to play? We’ve got more pie at our house.” 

His dad was stood with his arms folded, but he just rolled his eyes and walked away, which Dean took to be his permission, because his dad didn’t talk a lot. So he stood, and edged gingerly down the stairs, eyes locked on those blue ones. 

The cherry pie had been fantastic, and he’d liked Evelyn. She reminded him of his mom. He missed his mom. His father had said she wasn’t ever coming back when he’d caught him crying over it. But Evelyn was nice too. She had smiled at him and given him a hug when he fell over in their yard. She’d put a band aid on his knee and kissed it better, and although she’d looked curiously at the small circular burn on his stomach, she hadn’t mentioned it, so he hadn’t needed to tell her that his dad had put it there with his cigarette.

He’d gone back over the next day, and the one after. He and Castiel had been best friends ever since.


	2. This was not happening.

There was a sense of panic in his chest as he helped her shirt over her head, messing up her long dark hair in the process. He’d expected exhilaration, anticipation, lust. But instead he was struggling to breathe.

The girl licked into his mouth again and he faked a moan, grasping at the small of her back in an attempt to ground himself, to remind himself that this was a good idea. Dean drew shallow breaths  through his nose as he rolled his tongue around hers, tasting the sweet, fruity flavour of the juice she’d mixed with her vodka. He tried to get lost in the sensation, tried to want this, but with every moment his dread was becoming greater. He had to take this up a notch, or his cowardice would win out. 

With a rough hand he found her skirt, and with ease he pulled on the zipper to the side, smiling as the mini skirt slid down her legs and pooled around her feet. She kicked them out and stepped easily aside, capturing his mouth back against hers. Under the skirt was a pair of lace panties, and they should be driving him wild. Taking matters into his own hands, he quickly shed his jeans, leaving his t-shirt firmly in place and pulling her waist into his body with a shred of undiscovered courage. 

Out of his comfort zone didn’t even cut it. 

But then, he supposed, surely all sixteen year old boys felt like this their first time? This was definitely normal, he decided. With his new confidence, he slipped his hand under the lace, feeling his hand brush against the thick mass of hair underneath as it darted lower, to her wetness. He teased a finger across her clit, pleased at the little gasps he was able to evoke, and when he pulled his hand back up it was to tear the lace away. She smiled at him as she broke their kiss to unclip her bra.

He was attracted to her, that much was for certain. He liked the look of her curvaceous, yet slim figure. He liked the way her breasts hung, so unlike what he was used to from porn movies. He liked how her hair lay, dishevelled, below her shoulders and down her back. He returned the smile as he took her in, and stepped back toward her, pressing their bodies together. He had at least managed to get hard now. 

As plump lips went back to his he drew in a breath, revelling in the ease in which it flowed in. He could do this, he’d be fine. It was _just sex,_ after all. And he would love rubbing it in Castiel’s face later on. With a hand on his chest she pushed, and with a grin he let her lead him backwards, stumbling across the clothes that littered her floor to land with a bounce on the single mattress. He wriggled, getting comfortable, as she lay down next to him. Yep, he was totally fine with this. 

And yet, when her hand dipped in to his boxers he suddenly froze. As her slender fingers wrapped around his cock his lungs turned solid, refused to move or expand, and his mind conjured up unhelpful, terrifying images he’d had locked away for years, and for a brief moment he was back on that plane, mile high and trapped. 

He fought to dispel the memory, tried to concentrate on the present, but he found that his current predicament did nothing to help. His hands went to his face to cover his horror and the girl smiled, assuming the pleasure to be his weakness. Instead, while he panicked, Dean thought of happier things. He thought of Sammy winning that damned award at school and looking so freaking pleased with himself. He thought of him trying and failing to buck up the courage to flirt with Jessica, that blonde girl in the grade above him he always got so pink cheeked about. 

He thought of Castiel the most. He tried to remember how safe he made him feel, how at ease. He sucked in a breath as he imagined it was his hand on his waist, his head nuzzled against his. He drew the line at his hand on his cock because that was a complete no fly zone. At the thought of his friend he began to calm down. Began to feel safe again, to remember where he was. 

Now or never, he decided. 

With a thrust, he let his hips buck against her fingers, relief flooding in as he regained his lost ground and hardened in her hand. His own hand dipped down without thought, and as she spread her legs easily, lying on her back next to him, he plunged a finger into her heat, crooking it slightly as he dragged back down, completely unsure what else to do. She let out a small whine but it was obviously nowhere near enough, so he added another, tried plunging in and out a few times, and her breathing became heavy but she was no closer than he was. 

He rubbed at her clit with his thumb, and that seemed to get her interested. He watched the pleasure roll off of her face as he pressed harder, rubbed quicker, but he didn’t want it to end this way, and she didn’t either. So he pulled back suddenly, climbed off the bed to rummage in his jeans for his wallet and pulled a condom out, meeting her eyes briefly with a coy smile as he dragged it over his length.

As he neared her again she automatically spread her legs, and he took that as consent, clambering back on top of her and lining up with her entrance. He pushed quickly inside and she winced. Perhaps he should have gone slower. But she soon started to adjust, and when she’d relaxed he started to pull out a little, to push back in. It did feel good. It felt warm and tight and everything he’d been told it should, except it wasn’t making him happy. He still felt that sense of nervous dread he was having to stifle, still had those memories bubbling under the surface. He ignored them and let his hips pour again and again into hers, and he wasn’t sure whether he was doing something wrong but although her eyes were closed and there was a smile on her face she didn’t seem to be enjoying it. He was just glad that she had no other comparison either. 

He had to concentrate, had to think of something different to get him off because he needed this over with and quickly. He thought about porn, he thought about how the women in those movies had those perfectly pert breasts and how they’d finger themselves for his enjoyment. It helped but not enough, and that panic would soon catch up. He managed another breath when he thought about Castiel again, and he was surprised when his pain lessened, when he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him. And it was definitely weird that thinking about Cas was helping him to get off but he wasn’t going to complain because he wanted out now. Cas just helped him to feel safe, he reasoned. 

So he kept thinking about him, his dorky friend with his stupid blue eyes and that unruly dark hair. That asshole that was always the star of any school play and always showed him up academically. That wonderful friend who’d been there for him since he was four, who knew him inside and out, but who would never know about his deepest secrets. He thought about how happy it made him when he saw Castiel smile and knew he was the reason behind it.

It was definitely working. He could feel it now, on the horizon, that wave of release he knew from jacking off into socks in his bedroom and that one blowjob he’d got when he’d been blind drunk at someone’s party. He knew that soon he’d been shaking with the pleasure and riding it out inside this girl. The more he thought about Cas the closer it got, and although the girl was still lying comfortably still, her only movement his rocking her up and down, he let it wash over him, let himself spill into the rubber around him, let his back arch with the wave and shake from the pleasure. 

“Cas.” He gasped, and his cheeks went pink when he realised what he’d said, but he needn’t have worried, because her name was Cassie, and when he came down enough he remembered that.

When he was done and he’d stilled, he slipped his cock out, and tied the condom as he dragged it off, dumping it into her trash can. She regarded him with a smile and held her arms out, expecting a cuddle. He fell into them, albeit reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to get away, and quickly. 

He let a few minutes pass in silence, his arm underneath her neck, and when he felt it was, ok, not quite acceptable, but perhaps passable, he looked over to her. 

“What time is it?” He asked quietly. 

Cassie glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s half midnight.” She said with a smile.

“Really?” Dean said, pretending to be shocked. “Shit. I’ve got a curfew, I’ve gotta get back.” 

“Can’t you stay?” She pleaded. Her parents were away this weekend and she’d had this planned since forever ago. 

“No, can’t, my dad will kill me.” He muttered. It was half true. His dad probably would kill him, but perhaps not today, and definitely not because he’d just fucked some girl. He pressed a kiss into her temple, but pulled himself from the bed, dragging his boxers and jeans back on quickly. She was sitting up now, looking at him like she was disappointed, and it left him feeling a bit guilty and sour. “I’m sorry.” He meant that. He pressed another quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He said as he escaped the room. 

As he poured out onto the street, he felt his panic bubbling underneath again. He couldn’t go home, couldn’t be near _him_ when he was feeling like he was. He needed a distraction, needed safety. And although he was still processing the fact that he just got off to the thought of his friend there was no one else he wanted to see more right now. 

He was only a few blocks away, but it felt like miles. Each step was difficult, because once again his lungs had given up working. He wished Castiel was here. Wished he could sit him down and tell him to breathe like he normally did when he got in such a state, wished he could hear him breathing so deeply and slowly and follow that rhythm he always set for him. He imagined him doing it, and it helped, but he’d ask him to do that for real when he got there, he decided. 

Dean picked up his pace, let his feet carry him along the deserted streets, his arms chilling a little against the cool May air. It hadn’t really started to heat up yet this year, and he wished he’d brought a sweater to the party. He remembered Castiel winking at him earlier that evening as he flirted with Cassie. Remembered his nudge as he’d gone to step away, and how he’d basically fallen back into her arms because of it. He was a good wing man, he realised. 

And fuck, did he need to see his wing man right now. 

He rounded the corner into their street, and hurried along the sidewalk, keeping strictly to Cas’s side of the street rather than his own. His eyes darted over to his father’s house, completely unsurprised to see the lights still on downstairs, but he was relieved to see that Sammy’s light was off, that the kid was in bed, and that he couldn’t hear any noise coming out of there. He always panicked when he left Sammy alone in the house. He was scared that if he wasn’t there to take the blow…

No. No, no, nope. He couldn’t think like that. 

To his knowledge, John had never. Not to Sam. Sam talked back too much for it to be happening to him too. He’d never asked, but he’d never seen bruises. He’d never had to ask Sam where he got that cut, what he’d fallen on now. Sam wasn’t the one with a misguided reputation for clumsiness. He just had to last it out. Two more years and he could move out, get his own place and take Sam with him. Leave their father to rot in hell. Maybe Cas would want to come too. Or maybe they’d follow Cas, if he got into his drama school. He didn’t like the idea of moving to LA, it was too hot out there, but it would certainly be far enough away from John. 

He smiled as he vaulted the gate into Castiel’s back yard. Smiled at the prospect of a bright future, one without pain, one without torment. That’s all he had to do. Two more years. The thought alone was dispelling his panic, and he found himself breathing easily as he took up a stone from the gravel, tossed it up to gently tap at Castiel’s window. He was lucky his friend was a light sleeper. The amount of times he’d done this, their calling card for each other, and Cas hadn’t let him down once. 

It was without surprise that he saw Castiel’s sleepy face at the window, eyebrows raised. He waited patiently when Cas disappeared, for him to come down the stairs and let him in through the back door. He smiled at his best friend’s dishevelled appearance, at those stupid fucking bee pyjamas he was still wearing, the ones his mom had bought him for Christmas months ago, after he’d made an offhand, joke of a comment about loving bees. For some reason, and he couldn’t pinpoint why, he needed to be close to him. And for some reason, and he didn’t know why, Castiel didn’t protest when his arms wrapped around him and held him close. 

After a moment of standing in silence, Cas shrugged him off, holding out a hand instead which he took, and let himself be led up the stairs into his friend’s room. Dean took no more notice of the room than usual, but relaxed as soon as he was inside. This place was his safe haven. He’d never be harmed as long as he was in here. They’d spent so many hours as children inside these walls, and the walls themselves still bore the evidence of their fun, there were pen marks up to knee height on most of the green wallpaper, and spills and stains and paint on the wooden floors, as well as scuff marks from shoes and their toy cars that happened to crash into each other. Behind each mark was a memory, and behind each memory there was one overpowering emotion, happiness. 

Automatically, Castiel slipped back into bed, his covers held out for Dean to join him. Once he’d dragged off his shoes, he did, and Cas let out a happy little hum when he pressed their bodies together like they hadn’t for a while. The older they got, the less they cuddled, but tonight, that was going straight out of the window. 

“I take it it didn’t end well with Cassie?” Cas whispered into the night, one arm around Dean’s shoulder and the other resting on his side. 

“No… I did it. I fucked her.” Dean replied, but his voice was devoid of the pride he thought he should be feeling. 

“Right… so why are you here?” Castiel asked, confused. “I thought she had the house to herself this weekend.” Dean just shrugged. “Did you not enjoy it?” 

“No, I did enjoy it.” Dean said quietly, unsure how to get around the truth without telling it. “I just… I don’t think she did.” 

And although Cas was his best friend in the world he could have punched him when he broke down laughing in that moment. His cheeks went bright red and his hands left Cas to go straight to his face in embarrassment. When Cas was over his bout of hysterics he pulled Dean’s hands away from his head to shoot him an apologetic look. 

“Sorry.” He whispered, but he was still smiling. “But come on, you were hardly going to be a porn star on your first go.” 

“No, I know.” Dean sighed, letting his hands return to Castiel’s warm body. He was still a little cold from his walk so he shifted closer, and Cas adjusted to wrap around him tighter. He let him nuzzle his face into his neck and he found it so comforting to be able to hear his every breath and every heartbeat. “But honestly, it was kinda scary.” 

“If _you_ were scared, then I’ll never be able to do it.” Cas admitted quietly. He had literally zero experience with girls, (or boys, Dean had been harbouring a slight suspicion that maybe that was half the problem), and it was beginning to become a source of anxiety for him. 

“Hey, you will.” Dean said in a reassuring tone. He pulled his head back to look into his eyes, his worries and doubts laid plainly in the blue ocean. 

“I’ve never even kissed anyone.” Cas reminded him. 

“So?” He shrugged. “There are plenty of people who would kiss you, if you weren’t so damned fussy.” 

“Like who?”

“Like… like Meg. She was eyeing you up earlier. And I swear I saw Hannah checking you out the other day at school.” 

It was Castiel’s turn to shrug, and at the look on his face, Dean was suddenly unsure if his reluctance _was_ born from lack of attraction or from anxiety and nerves. 

“Look… don’t… don’t read into this. But if you’re freaking out about it…” He began, suddenly unsure how to voice the stupid idea that had just popped into his head. This was _definitely_ just to help out his friend, it had nothing to do with the fact that he'd needed to think about him to climax earlier. He really was a fucking idiot, but right now he was a curious idiot. Castiel raised an eyebrow and waited patiently for him to continue. “If you wanted to, you know, to practice… I guess… I guess you could. With me. I guess.” He stuttered. 

Castiel’s lips curled into an amused smile, and for half a second Dean thought he actually wanted him to agree just so he could try kissing him. “You want me to practice kiss you? Would that not be really weird?” 

“Probably.” Dean shrugged, but he wasn’t ready to let it drop, not just yet. “But if you wanted some experience, just so you know what to do… I mean Jesus, Cas, you’re my best friend, it’s my duty to help.” 

Cas went silent for a long while, staring into Dean’s grass green eyes, that bemusement still on his lips. Dean, for some reason, felt like his heart was about to stop. He didn’t know why this was making him feel so odd. He’d felt weird all evening. He’d just fucked a girl for the first time, just finally got man points for losing his virginity with some girl, and now here he was offering to kiss his friend because he felt sorry for him? It definitely _wasn’t_ because he’d had to think about his friend to get off earlier. What the hell was with him? Cas would see what a stupid and weird idea this was, and turn him down though, right? 

When Castiel did exactly the opposite, and nodded, his chest felt tight. “Ok.” Dean sucked in a breath, and if Cas could tell that was hard for him he didn’t show it. “So kiss me.” He ordered. 

And with his instruction, Cas leant in, snaking a hand up to cup his cheek and hovering his lips only inches away from his face. “You’re sure?” He whispered, his breath hot and teasing against Dean’s skin. And fuck, was Dean sure. A large part of him actually _wanted_ it at that moment. And after all, he was already going to have to add tonight to his pile of memories that he denied ever happened, why not put the cherry on the fucking cake?

Dean nodded, and Cas closed the distance, touching their lips together just a fraction, but it was already so much more electric than it had been with the girls he’d made out with before. 

“More.” Dean whispered the command, and Cas obliged, his lips pressing in harder as his hands gripped at his back and his side, squeezing his soft flesh and making him tingle everywhere he touched. Dean wondered briefly if Cas was feeling this too, or if he was just being weird tonight. 

“More.” He repeated, and obediently Castiel let his mouth open, let his tongue tease its way into his mouth and meet his own. Dean let him explore him, stifled a moan when Castiel’s hand lifted up and coursed through his hair. It felt more real than anything he’d ever experienced, and that was terrifying but it was wonderful, and he’d had enough to drink that he let his fear subside and just enjoyed the moment. It was, he realised with slight trepidation, fucking hot. He held back the _more,_ that he shouldn’t even have been thinking. He should stop this, he had to stop this. Castiel really didn’t need the practice. Considering this was his first kiss he was already better than the majority of the girls Dean had made out with in the past. He was definitely better than Dean was himself. With a breath, he realised what he was doing, what they were doing, and that it needed to stop, but it was so damned hard to break away. 

As if sensing his discomfort, Cas pulled away quickly, and eyed him with a concerned expression, but there was a brightness in his blue eyes that wasn’t there before. “You ok?” Cas whispered. 

“Yeah.” Dean smiled, taking a deep breath in. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ok again, but Cas didn’t need to know that. “This probably is gunna sound weird but, you’re a good kisser.” 

“Ha.” Castiel laughed, a smug smile across the soft lips that Dean _definitely_ didn’t want to kiss again. “You’re not so bad either, I guess. Or at least, I don’t think so. Can’t really compare.” 

Dean smirked, and nudged his friend in the rib. He shuffled uncomfortably, a sense of horror overcoming him when he realised he was hard. Hard from practicing kissing with his best, male friend. Hard less than an hour after losing his virginity. That was not ok. Seriously not ok. He wasn’t… he couldn’t be… he was straight, right? Straight as an arrow. What would John do if he realised…? Oh fuck no. He’d kill him. Literally kill him. And Cas and Sammy with him. This was never going to happen again. Even if it had made him feel wonderful, even if he was suddenly hornier than he had ever been. No, no, nope. This was _not_ happening. 


	3. “It's just me.”

“I’m sorry!” He screamed again. He tried to roll away. “Don’t…” 

Smack. Too late. The fist had connected with his cheek and in its place was searing pain. He’d have another bruise he’d have to explain tomorrow. He knew he was crying and hated himself for it, almost as much as he hated the man pinning him to the ground. The man who was supposed to protect him from harm, who’d been his tormentor for his entire fucking life. 

“Please.” He begged. “Please, dad.” 

“Don’t call me that.” John commanded, the alcoholic taste on his lips bringing bile to the back of his son’s throat. Dean held his tongue, shaking uncontrollably from fear and pain, but he could still control his lips. He hated calling him dad. Hated that the man that had caused him nothing but pain was his biological father. Hated that he didn’t deserve the title. He knew John hated it too, and he knew that the reminder was a sure fire way of getting him to stop, at least for a moment. He knew it made him feel guilty, for a second, but it would anger him later. He’d have to spend the night out tonight. Make up some shitty excuse to stay with Castiel. Try and convince Sammy to stay with a friend. 

When John wrenched himself off of his son and stalked back to the fridge for another beer, Dean lifted his fingers to his face, hastily wiping aware the tears. He’d got off lightly, this time. It had been much worse before. He hadn’t done the grocery shop after school, his douchebag teacher had given him detention for turning up late the other morning (because John had smashed his alarm clock), and so he missed the bus, and it all spiralled out of his control from there. He almost had enough money to buy a car. Almost.

It had been worse, he reasoned, as he pulled himself up slowly and stared in the mirror, looking at the cut on the side of his cheek. Sometimes he couldn’t even pull himself up. Sometimes he’d had to lie still for an hour or more before he got his strength back, or he’d regained consciousness. Sometimes he’d puked or pissed himself from the fear or the panic. His back was hurting too, and he turned, lifting his shirt to look at it, grimacing at the sight of another deep cut that was sure to scar. What had he fallen on this time? Maybe he’d caught the corner of the coffee table on the way down. Maybe it was the edge of the fireplace, could have been the poker itself. He couldn’t even be sure.  

So what had he done this time? What bullshit story could he come up with to make them all believe he was the most clumsy boy of all time? Had he fallen down the stairs again? Taken a karate lesson? He hadn’t been gone long enough to have gone hunting again. Maybe he’d had a fight with Sam, although the size of the mark was far bigger than his thirteen year old brother’s hands. Jesus, he’d have to get some ice on that, and quick, or he’d have a face half the size of a freaking watermelon. 

He sighed, groaning a little as his back hurt and felt stiff, but he hobbled over to the front door, grabbing his jacket in his hands and slamming the door behind him. Without thinking he crossed the street, checking his watch to make sure the hour was acceptable as he knocked on the opposite door, waiting patiently for an answer. 

Castiel’s adoptive mother opened it, looking down at him with scrutinising eyes as she took in the sight of him with yet another injury, yet more evidence she was right, and she rolled her eyes, stepping back to allow him inside. 

Dean didn’t hurry upstairs to Cas’s room. Evelyn was chattering away and he found the sound of her voice comforting. She rummaged in her freezer, pulling out a bag of frozen corn and wrapping it in a towel before she held it up to his eye, pressing firmly on the shining wound below until he hissed from the discomfort. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” She said, like she’d said before. How long could she let this go on? How long could she ignore the things this boy was going through? Surely there must be something she could do. She’d call the hotline again tomorrow, but she had no concrete evidence. She’d asked him before, and she’d ask again, but he would deny it, claim he was a clumsy idiot and that he’d fallen, just like he said. _I know it happens all the time,_ he’d say, _I’m just that stupid_. “What did you do this time?” She asked. He’d slip up one day and she’d worm it out of him. 

“Fell off my bike.” He said quietly, wincing. 

“You don’t have a bike.” A stern voice said from behind him, and they turned to see Castiel standing there, watching them curiously with his head tilted in that way that only he did. 

“Borrowed Sam’s.” Dean hurried, aware that Evelyn was eyeing him with an air of suspicion. He knew she could see straight through his lies, and he hated lying to her. But if he told her what had really happened, then he’d be taken away, wouldn’t he? It’s not like child services would let him live with her and Castiel. And what would happen to Sam? No, it wasn’t worth the risk. He wasn’t worth the risk. _Two more years._  

“Sam has a bike?” Cas raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, got it for Christmas.” He lied. 

“You’ve hurt your back, too.” Cas sighed, coming closer to him. He’d taken his jacket off when he came into the house, and underneath his t-shirt was ripped and stained with his blood. 

“Uh, yeah.” He stammered, wincing as his friend pulled away the fabric to inspect the wound. He took over holding the bag of corn to his face so that Eve could join her son in looking at the damage to his back. 

“You’re lucky.” She said pointedly, letting him know that she wasn’t buying his shit. “There’s no grit in it.” 

“Good…?” Dean tried, and he could have cried on the spot, but he wasn’t going to let it get to him. Above all, he wanted a fucking hug. 

As if reading his mind, but probably just reading his expression, Castiel stepped closer and put an arm around his shoulder, allowing the uninjured side of his face to rest against his chest. Dean smiled at the smell of him, at that musky, manly scent that his cheap cologne left in his throat, and at the deeper, earthy smell underneath that was all him. God, why wasn’t this his life? Why wasn’t he always this safe and secure and happy? 

While Cas rested his chin on his head, Dean had no idea that he was watching his mother wash out the wound, and she was looking up at him and shaking her head, that he was struggling to understand what she was getting at. 

When Evelyn had finished, she spared him the disapproving sigh, and pulled him into her arms. She thought of him as another son. After all, he’d only been four when she’d first knocked on their door after moving into the neighbourhood. It was just luck that he was the same age as Castiel, that the boys had connected so instantly, but she could see at first sight that he’d needed someone to act as his mother, to show him the way. He smiled when he let her go, thanking her silently for not grilling him this time, for taking care of him like she always did. And when they’d broke apart, Cas grabbed his hand and pulled, leading him up to his room. 

“What’s the deal?” He said suspiciously when he’d closed the door behind them. 

Dean looked at him blankly, confusion all over his face. 

“You know as well as I do that Sam hasn’t got a bike. So what the hell happened? And why are you lying about it?” 

Oh. That. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dean tried, knowing full well that Cas would never drop it but buying himself some time to think. 

“I don’t want you to lie to me, but we don’t always get what we want.” Cas hissed accusingly. 

A fleeting thought passed through Dean’s mind - he looked kinda cute when he was angry. Wait, whoah, where the hell did that come from? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been dreaming about him every night since that stupid fucking kiss but that was in his sleep, and everyone knows that dreams are just your imagination. This was real life, and thoughts like that were far from ok. He squashed it down, trying not to let his mixed up emotions show in his expression. 

“Look I just… I had a really bad fight with Sam, ok?” Dean sighed, trying to act hurt. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, letting his head fall into his hands and wincing as he touched the cut. He knew the adults would never buy this story, but maybe Castiel would. “He said some stuff and I tried to hit him but he hit me first and I fell. I mean, he’s already taller than me.” 

“What did he say?” Castiel probed, still suspicious. 

“Cas, please. I don’t want to.” 

“Dean…” 

“It was about dad, ok?” He supposed a half truth would be better than an outright lie. “Like he blames me for him drinking so much.” 

“Really?” Cas said quietly, suddenly sympathetic. “I’m sorry.” He sat down next to Dean and hung an arm around his shoulder. 

“It’s ok, he's just a kid. He doesn’t understand. He just doesn’t want to accept that dad’s an asshole just because he is.” 

“Is he still just as bad?” Cas asked, resisting the urge to brush Dean’s hair away from his eyes. They rarely talked about his father. It was almost taboo. He knew the basics, that John was a complete dick, that he’d had an alcohol problem since before they could even remember, that he was prone to shouting and yelling, but he didn’t know the whole story, no one did, not even Sam, and it was going to stay that way. 

“Yeah, basically.” Dean whispered. “Can I stay here tonight?” 

Castiel just smiled and nodded. It was getting late, and they had school in the morning, so he slipped into his bathroom to brush his teeth, pulling off his t-shirt and sweatpants and dumping them in the laundry. When he stepped back into the room minutes later, he could have sworn he saw Dean’s Adam’s apple bob with a swallow when he looked at him. He narrowed his eyes, but thought nothing of it. He couldn’t hope that his affections were returned. There was no way. And yet, after that incredible kiss? No, but at least he had some fuel to jack off to for the rest of his life. 

As Dean entered the bathroom and used the toothbrush Cas kept next to his own for his exclusive use, he reminded his brain to keep control of his heart, cause it was sure as hell acting weird tonight. When Cas had emerged, wearing just his boxers, he’d been drawn to check him out, to stare at the chest which at some point had become muscled and toned. When was Cas ever that ripped? And that ass when he’d turned… fuck why was that a turn on? He might not have noticed his transformation but he had noticed how much he’d liked it, and that was not cool. He hadn’t forgotten his unfortunate boner when Cas had kissed him, but he’d all but written it off. He was drunk at the time, and he got horny when drunk. That was just a fact. Plus, it was probably just because he was kissing someone. He might have got a boner kissing anyone. His brain enjoyed reminding him that he hadn’t been too keen to get hard when Cassie was kissing him, but then that was just nerves, right? And if not, then it was probably just their weird emotional connection. He’d do anything for him. Anything to protect him. He loved him, and that didn’t make him gay.

When he came out of the bathroom he felt suddenly more comfortable, and when he climbed next to Castiel in the bed, Cas raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” He asked, when Cas looked at him weirdly. 

“Take your shirt off, your cut needs to heal.” He instructed. Cas was well aware that Dean never took his shirt off, but he knew about the scars underneath. Dean was an idiot if he thought he hadn’t noticed, or that he’d forgotten. He knew he was clumsy beyond belief, and that he and his brother fought a lot, but it didn’t bother him. He just didn’t know why it bothered Dean so much. 

“I’m fine, Cas.” Dean said petulantly. 

“You won’t be if you sleep with that on. Plus it’s dirty. Take it off.” 

“No.” 

“It’s not like I don’t know about your scars, Dean. It’s just me.” Castiel chanced, but he was met with silence, a still silence, a complete silence. The sort of silence that allowed him to realise that Dean was no longer breathing normally. Cas sighed, and turned to face his friend, exaggerating his breathing as he bent over him and pulled the fabric over his head, threading his arms out of the sleeves. Castiel didn’t get why it happened, but when Dean’s lungs filled with air his eyes filled with tears, and as they spilled over, Cas furrowed his brow, but he held out his arms and Dean shuffled closer, burying his face in his friend’s chest. 

Castiel wanted to ask, wanted to understand why he was so touchy about this, why he was getting so upset. But he knew Dean, and he knew that he was useless at talking about anything real, particularly when he was in a state. Maybe he’d try in the morning, when the sunlight through his pale curtains would inevitably wake them before their alarm. Or maybe he’d try at school, or after. He’d ask the question, soon. But the more he thought about it, the more he found he didn’t want to know the answer. It left a sour feeling deep in his stomach. Like something wasn’t quite right. He just didn't know what.

So he just held him. Held him close until his sobs subsided. Stroked through his hair until the shaking ceased and his breathing had normalised. Smiled when he realised he’d fallen asleep, and let himself drift off too.


	4. "No, I'm not ok."

When they woke the following morning to the sounds of Evelyn cleaning the house, to the morning light fading slowly in through the curtains, Cas felt strangely at peace, strangely right. His arms were still around Dean, where they’d slept the night before, and his skin was warm where Dean’s bare chest was pressed against his own. It felt nice. His friend looked so vulnerable with his dark purple bruise now firmly staining his cheek, with his eyes closed in peace, flickering at some dream or another. Cas couldn’t help but smile. 

He’d known for a long time now that there was something different about Dean. And not just the obvious, dark hole that existed inside of him to suck out all of his self confidence and happiness. There was something within him, raw and pure and tantalising, that made him feel different. It made him feel complete and alive like no one else ever had. He’d thought for months, years perhaps, that it was just because they were so close. But now he knew, like deep down he’d always known, that actually, he was just in love. Head over heels in love with his very straight best friend. 

It had been the little things that had made him realise it, over the years. It was the way his friend frowned when the morning light hit his cheeks, screwed up his face like he was begging the sun for a do-over. It was the way he laughed when they were together, how he'd push his darkness to the side for a few seconds and just be, and just because Cas had made a (usually terrible) joke. It was how he was an awful loser whenever they played video games, because Cas always won. It was how they loved the same things, like Star Wars and Mario Kart. It was how his eyes lit up when he smiled, how he was kind and caring and loyal beyond belief. He loved how funny he could be, how smart he actually was. It was how easy it was to be around him, how there was never judgement or question and he could just be who he was meant to be. It was how even though his brother could apparently be a dick, Dean still loved him and still defended him. 

Castiel Novak was fully, completely, one hundred percent in love with Dean Winchester. 

And had he been stupid to accept the offer of a practice kiss? Probably. Had he realised that nothing else would ever come close, that he’d be haunted by the experience for the rest of his days? Yes. But he’d jumped at the chance all the same. And it had been beyond what he imagined. 

When Dean moaned a little and began to open his left eye (the other swollen shut), Cas smiled, and his cock twitched as Dean’s morning wood pressed into his hip. 

“Have you been watching me sleep again?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow, but a smile. 

Castiel shrugged, rolling reluctantly onto his back and grimacing as the cool air was allowed access to his skin. As Dean hurried to pull the comforter close to his abdomen Cas frowned, thinking about his bizarre reaction the night before. Quickly, he pulled himself out of bed while Dean watched with a confused expression, and rummaged in his drawers for a clean t-shirt, dragging out a plain white one that he threw over to his friend. Dean grabbed at it and slid it over his head, wincing at the pain it caused when it squeezed over his eye, but smiling up gratefully at Cas all the same. 

“Don’t you start thinking we’re not gunna talk about that.” Cas said in warning, and although Dean's face fell, he sucked in a breath and nodded once. 

 

*

 

As he chatted to her in the cafeteria, as he watched her reddish hair tumble down her shoulder when she flicked it back behind her, as he watched the smile curl on her lips when he caught her staring at them, he felt good. 

It was weird, to feel good. 

She’d asked about the cut to his eye and the bruising that surrounded it. She’d told him she aspired to be a medical doctor once they left high school, that maybe one day she’d have to fix him up, because he was so clumsy he was surely always in the emergency room. He’d laughed, going along with the program once he’d noticed how pretty her eyes were. Anna was popular, more popular than he or Castiel ever had been, and it certainly wouldn’t do him any harm to get friendly with her. He’d flirted back when her eyes lit up, and he’d caught her looking at his mouth just as frequently as he looked at hers. 

And sure, he was quite aware of what an ass he was being, what with Cassie sat on the next table over, staring purposefully away while her girlfriends glared daggers at him. He knew he’d been a complete tool ever since they’d slept together. He’d never called and truth be told he’d spent more time fantasising about the kiss he’d shared with his friend afterwards than about being between her legs. 

But something about Anna made him feel more comfortable than he had been with her. She seemed smart, she was likeable, and certainly attractive. Not that Cassie wasn’t… but it was different. He had half a mind to ask her to prom and be done with it. 

He let some joke slide off his tongue and she laughed with ease, letting her eyes light up as her cheeks rose and a warm sound escaped her lips. He actually wanted her, and for a moment, all of his doubts went out the window. He was _definitely_ not gay. But then, true to form, he looked up to spot Castiel making his way over, and as his eyes caught sight of those blue ones he saw the glint of happiness inside, and his heart swelled in that way that it only did for Cas. His angular jaw was fucking beautiful, too. So ok, maybe not _completely_ straight either. 

When Castiel reached the table he didn’t sit down, and Dean could read in his expression that he wanted to talk. He was looking down with that sort of nervous, unsure attitude that meant he didn’t know how to start, so Dean smiled and climbed to his feet, shooting a grin back at Anna. He knew he had to suck it up and talk to Castiel, this was a chance to really fix himself up. There was so much going on in his head that he needed help to understand, but how on earth was he going to voice any of it?

“We’ve got somewhere we need to be.” He lied, looking down at the girl with the red hair and in a cowardly moment he wished that he could keep talking to her instead. She made him feel good, and at the moment Cas just made him feel weird, because he kept having those thoughts he shouldn’t be having. “Can we take a rain check? I’ll catch you soon to tell you about more of my escapades.” He sung, and she laughed again, nodding as she took her tray and vacated the table, heading off in search of her usual crowd of friends.

As Castiel met Dean’s eyes he felt strangely nervous. He rarely confronted his friend about any of his… _quirks_ , and it almost felt weird to be doing so. But it had gone on long enough, he reasoned. They were older now, and if they wanted to continue being friends they had to grow up and communicate or it would all fall apart. He gestured his head to the door and Dean let his strides fall into time with his own as they walked across the parking lot, heading over to the football field where they always went to be on their own. 

As usual at this time of day it was deserted, and Dean held out a hand to Cas and led him up the steps of the bleachers, taking a seat midway up and shuffling his hands around in his lap with nerves when Cas sat down with him. 

“So…” Cas said quietly, unsure quite how to begin. 

“Uh… yeah.” Dean too was struggling, trying to come up with something to say. They fell silent for a few minutes while trying to gather their thoughts.

“Are you ok?” Cas asked finally. 

Dean turned his head to meet his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could lie anyway. Even if he said yes Castiel wouldn’t believe him. “No.” He admitted. He watched Cas bite his lip and knew that his friend was just trying to help him, so his fingers went out to take his own. “No, I’m not ok.” He continued, keeping their eye contact with difficulty. 

“Is this about your shirt? ‘Cause I’m sorry I made you take it off.” 

“Look I just… I don’t like people seeing the scars. I’m sorry I had a meltdown, I’m really confused at the moment.” Dean began, and that much was the truth. If only he could tell the whole truth. “And I know it’s only you but you matter to me, too. It’s just… I know how little people will think of me when they know what an idiot I am.” 

“This is about your confidence?” Cas raised an eyebrow. “Dean, it’s nothing to be ashamed of! There are much worse things you could be than clumsy.”

 _Like constantly beaten by my own father?_ “Just because you have great self confidence doesn’t mean we all do.” 

“What makes you think I have good confidence? I don’t, I’ll have you know. I have the same stupid worries as everyone.” Cas pouted. 

“Well you shouldn’t, Cas, ‘cause you’re you. You’re smart and you’re funny, you’re talented and you’re freaking perfect.” Dean smiled, and he’d meant every word. His internal monologue finished his sentence for him, even though he chastised it as soon as it was quiet. _You’re also completely gorgeous and you kiss like a porn star._

Cas squeezed his hand and shot him a quick, coy smile for the compliment. “And what’s so wrong with you?” 

 _Does he want the whole list?_ Dean laughed then, and buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know Cas, I just… everything feels weird right now.”

“Dean… don’t hate me for asking this but… are you depressed?”

 _Yes, probably._ “No.” 

“Then what?” 

 _I’m so completely worthless that even my own father won’t love me._ “I don’t know.”  Dean lied again. He hated lying, especially to Cas. His whole life felt like a fucking lie. 

“You’ve been acting weird since you slept with Cassie.” Castiel stated. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know how I should be feeling.” That was actually true, he reasoned. He had been acting weird, sure. Not only had he been left completely, world upside down confused by the fact that he’d enjoyed kissing his best friend (a lot), he was haunted again by those fucking nightmares, the ones he’d had for weeks after it had happened, the ones where he couldn’t escape and he was trapped in that airplane bathroom and… _no. Stop._

“I suppose different?” 

“That’s the thing, I don’t really feel good different. I just… I dunno I feel… a bit scared.” Again, not a lie. But Cas was definitely gunna read that the wrong way and maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he let him think along those lines. If he was scared of having sex with girls then it wouldn’t have to happen again, right? Cas didn’t need to know the real reason _why_ he was scared of having sex. Just like he didn’t need to know the real reason why he was scared of flying. 

“Is that because you said it wasn’t a good experience?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Castiel paused. If only Dean could see himself through his eyes even for a second. He could chastise his friend for his stupidity, but he felt like Dean was too fragile. And actually, he just wanted to comfort him. He held his arms out and Dean fell into them easily, smiling as his friend nuzzled into his neck, shooting gooseflesh down his spine. “You know I’m always gunna be here for you, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, I know, Cas.” 


	5. "Don't scream."

_The air smelled funny. It was processed, clinical almost. You know how it smells when it’s been circulating for a few hours and there are several large passengers on board, and whatever mix of chemicals they use to clean it doesn’t quite cut the mustard? The lights were bright. Really freaking bright. Really in your face. His ears were ringing with the pressure and the altitude, and he’d felt cramped and trapped in the window seat next to his father the whole time since that terrifying take off. The kid in front’s mom had her arm around him. No fair. He should be so lucky. Plus that stupid little air con thing was aimed right at him, so he was freezing cold and altogether uncomfortable._

_He was shivering, and he shot a quick glance up at John, but he wasn’t looking at him. He was acting weird, even for him. And John wasn’t a talker at the best of times. It was almost like he was waiting for something, for some cue, for some person to give him a nod. He didn’t know what was going on, but he felt unsettled, and cold, and hungry, and scared. He pulled his feet up onto the seat and buried his head in his knees, trying to get warmer at least. He sat like this for a while, turning his head eventually to stare out of the window, taking in the vast expanse of land underneath. It was cool, looking down at the world passing by, gazing at the clouds and the mountains. He liked it._

_Some time passed where he watched the world sail by underneath and daydreamed about what he would do when he was an adult, (maybe he’d be a firefighter, or a cop) until his father’s strong hand gripped his shoulder and he turned, looking up into his eyes. He was just a child at the time and he couldn’t have read his expression, but looking back it was obvious to him now that John looked uncertain, nervous even, as he pulled and he was forced to slip into the aisle. When John said the word bathroom he thought that meant he was going too, but the reality was entirely different and entirely worse. He’d told him not to lock the door._

_John had walked behind him as he took those steps along the aisle to the bathroom, thinking it was strange, that he didn’t need to pee. He’d shot him a confused glance as he pulled open the door and slipped inside, and looking back now he knew his father looked almost regretful._

_When the strange man had entered behind him he’d begun to panic, and he’d even tried to escape, but the man was larger and older and stronger, and he’d barricaded the door with his tall frame and the little boy had no hope of escaping.The man had pulled a camera from his pocket, and when his hand reached out he’d backed away, the back of his knees buckling against the toilet. He hadn’t been able to get far enough away, and the hand had reached the skin above his hip._

_“Don’t scream.” The strange man had said. “Don’t make a noise, or your father will hear about it.”_

 

*

 

When he woke he was sweating. He was shivering, and crying too. His hands had gone automatically to his face and his bastard mind couldn’t help but fill in the last few minutes of blank that his nightmare had spared him, but that one had been so much more vivid than the others had. He rolled to his side and dragged his legs up to his chest, lying in a fetal position as he sobbed against his knees. He remembered what that stranger had done to him, what he’d been forced to do. He could remember the taste, even now, and what the guy had smelled like when he’d been made to sit with him for the remainder of the flight. He'd never felt so trapped. It seemed obvious to him now that John must have been given something in return, must have arranged the whole thing with some gain for himself. He’d never know, because he couldn’t confront him. 

He lay for what seemed like hours, but there was no use. He wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight, not while the images were fresh in his mind. He’d managed to forget for the longest time, but sleeping with Cassie had brought it all back. If he ever wanted any sort of relationship he’d have to get past this. He had to. So he tried, he tried to downplay it in his mind, tried to accept it. Tried to pretend it was ok and that he was fine, but he’d been so vulnerable and so violated and so fucking trapped up there in the fucking sky that he wasn’t sure he'd ever get over it. 

Another wave of sorrow and fear washed through him and he suddenly couldn’t be in that house any longer. He wouldn’t share a roof with the asshole that had leant him out to some creep. He dragged a jacket on over his pyjamas as he snuck downstairs and yanked the front door open. He stole across the street and clambered (a little more awkwardly than usual) over the locked gate to the back yard, hastily grabbing a pebble which he lobbed up at his friend’s window. 

It took him by surprise when the door opened quickly. He’d been so prepared to break down crying in Castiel’s arms that when he saw his mother standing there looking out at him in complete confusion it took everything he had not to burst into tears. Her head tilted in her surprise and it brought out a smile in him from somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He now knew where Cas got that from. She took a step back to allow him through the doors and when she’d shut them behind him she turned and wrapped him quickly in a hug, and suddenly he couldn’t hold himself back or hold himself up. He was crying without control and with no hope of stopping. 

While he sobbed she stroked his hair and kept him upright, pulled into her chest as if he was her son, too. Dean hadn’t realised how much he’d needed it until it was happening, but it seemed like everything was being slowly pressed out of him, like all of that pent up fear and terror was being slowly soothed and he was left warm in the spaces it vacated. He didn’t know how long she held him for, it might have been minutes or hours, but he felt lighter when he finally pulled away and glanced up nervously to meet her eyes. 

“Dean.” She sighed, her hand against his cheek. “Sweetheart if you’re not safe I need you to tell me.” 

It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just to admit it and let everything tumble down. Let those carefully built walls collapse and agree that help was needed. And yet, when he saw her concern in his eyes he was defiant and strong and above all scared. Scared that if he told the truth he’d never see her again, that he’d never see Cas again or Sammy or anyone he’d ever cared about. He shook his head. 

“I’m fine, I just had a nightmare.” 

If she thought it was strange that a nightmare would send him to herself and her son rather than his own father she didn't show it. But it was obvious to him that she knew more than she was letting on. She sighed, a contemplative expression against her lips, but it turned into a smile as she bent down to kiss his forehead, her lips soft and warm. 

“Come on, I’ll make us some cocoa and we can watch a movie.” 

She was still making their drinks when he heard the footsteps travel down the stairs. He turned his head with an expectant smile and was met with a confused expression when Castiel rounded the corner into the living room from the hall. 

“I heard voices.” Cas explained sleepily, as his mother grabbed another mug from the cupboard. Under his mother’s instruction, he returned back upstairs to grab his comforter from his bed before he sat down next to Dean and covered their laps with the blanket. Dean had just shrugged when he’d asked him why he was here, what was going on, and he’d figured that he didn't want to talk just yet. Maybe not with Eve around at least. 

They flicked on a movie, Eve on one couch and the young boys on another. Before long, Cas got tired again, having been woken up, and insisted on lying down, his feet in Dean’s lap. After a while he was joined, and Dean slotted in front of him easily, his body a perfect fit against his own. 

The movie was only at the half way point when Evelyn retired to bed. She’d been meaning to go up all night, she’d only been downstairs originally because she’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. Dean shot her a grateful look as she left the room, and she glanced back at him with some remorse in the smile she returned. Castiel had noticed the exchange, but he said nothing. He was half asleep himself, with an arm under Dean’s neck and the other around his chest. 

Still none the wiser as to his friend’s sudden appearance, Cas was beginning to panic. He felt better now that he had his arms around him, now that he knew he was ok, but he was getting fed up of not knowing what was going on with him. Plus he was worried, Dean was acting so weird lately. Ever since Cassie, really. Or maybe ever since they’d kissed. Maybe that’s what all this was about, he was just having a delayed freak out about it. He should have known it would happen sooner or later. As soon as his mother had left them, he pulled back from Dean enough to look down at his face, and as expected, he turned his head to meet his eyes, shuffling over onto his back. 

“What’s going on?” Cas asked quietly.

“Nothing, honestly. It was just a nightmare.” Dean sighed, and his fingers went up to rub at his face. 

“Which one?” Cas enquired, to which Dean furrowed his brow. He didn’t remember ever telling Cas about the details of his nightmares, but maybe Cas was just digging for information in an unusual way. 

“The usual.” He said vaguely, a complete lie, but when Cas waited for him to expand he elaborated further on his made up dream. “Mom.” 

“You remember that?” 

“Of course I remember.” Dean said irritably. He did remember, and it did haunt his nights fairly often, but it didn’t leave him feeling so awful as this one had because the memories were so hazy. 

“Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?” Cas asked quietly, after a pause. 

He could lie again, try to convince him that that was the truth, but he didn’t think Cas would buy it. Cas was no idiot, and if he thought he was lying then he had to change his story. He sighed, a long, deep, ragged sigh. “Because I am lying.” Dean admitted. “Cas I’m even dreaming about it now, about sex, about how fucking scared I am.” 

“Dean, that’s not normal.” 

“I’m not an idiot Cas. I know it isn’t normal.” Dean snapped. He sighed again and shot Cas an apologetic look, but he could see in his expression that he was already forgiven. He tried again. “I know it isn’t normal. I was feeling a bit better about it, but then I met Anna, and I like her, but I’m scared. Scared that she’ll want me to fuck her and you know she’s had other guys and… ugh. Jesus.” 

It was the truth, at least. It might not have been the complete truth, the reason why slightly worse than the alternative, but he was scared that Anna would want him to fuck her. It might be a minor deflection but it was something that had been playing on his mind for a while. The girl with the red hair had crossed his mind a few times since their conversation in the cafeteria the other day, and they’d been talking at school most days since then. True, he didn’t feel completely taken with her, and she wasn’t permanently on his mind like his best friend was, but he got on well with her and he thought she was attractive. That was definitely enough of a start for him. 

“Come on, you need to think more of yourself.” Castiel protested. He’d fallen for the excuse hook, line, and sinker. 

“Well I don’t, Cas. Why would I?” Dean’s irritation and self-loathing got the better of him. 

“Why wouldn’t you? Dean there’s nothing wrong with you.” Cas whispered, and the hand that had been resting on his chest came up to cup his cheek in his palm. “You’re smarter than you think you are. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re loyal. You’re one of the best people I know. And I don’t suppose you’re bad looking.” He winked, hoping that didn’t come off as weird. 

Dean snorted. “Thanks, but I don't know about nothing wrong with me. I can’t even take my shirt off around you without having a panic attack.” 

“Why don’t you try it?” 

As Dean’s face betrayed his fear Cas wondered if he was pushing him too far. He looked away while he gathered himself, and when he looked back the guarding had returned to his eyes. Cas dropped his hand back down to Dean’s chest. “Let me touch, then.” He whispered, and Dean remained quiet, staring at him with wide, untrusting eyes as Cas let his hand trail down to his stomach, and grip the hem of the t-shirt he wore. 

A finger slipped underneath the fabric and brushed against Dean’s bare skin, and one of his hands suddenly slammed down on Castiel’s, holding it firmly still while he dragged in shallow breaths. Their stare continued for what seemed like an age, Dean reading in Cas the truth, that he was safe and secure and in no danger of harm, while Cas lost himself in Dean’s fear and loathing. Eventually, Dean nodded once, and his grip on Cas’s hand loosened. 

The finger was joined by the others, and Cas pulled the shirt up until his whole hand was flat against Dean’s bare stomach. Dean drew his friend ever closer, so that their foreheads were against each other’s, and his hand went to the back of Cas’s neck, using all of his strength to keep breathing normally. Cas was breathing louder than usual and he was grateful for the distraction, but the longer his warm hand was against his skin the better he was starting to feel. It was still an effort, to breathe normally, but when Cas smiled at him it got easier, and eventually it started to feel natural. So natural that he was willing to take it a step further. 

Dean sucked in a deep breath as he pulled sharply away, and his hands went down to his shirt, dragging it off over his head in one swipe. When he’d tossed it onto the floor and looked back, Cas was beaming at him, and he fell easily back into position huddled against his friend, who wrapped an arm around him and squeezed, his lips in a wide grin. He’d had a hard time trying not to think about those lips recently. He felt weird, like he could kiss him now and Cas wouldn’t mind. Like he wanted to kiss him now. He looked away when he felt himself getting hard, buried his head in his friend’s shoulder instead. He didn’t know why this kept happening to him. He couldn’t be attracted to Cas, because he wasn’t gay. He just _wasn’t._ Besides, he liked a girl now. He was into Anna, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is way longer than these last few have been, I've got no sense of regularity with my chapter lengths at all lol but now that the set up is kinda there it will get a bit more interesting I promise!


	6. "Friends don’t do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual plot incoming! I felt bad about how short yesterday's chapter was so here ya go. The whole thing gets a bit smuttier from here too, fair warning if you're not into that!

It had been a risky move, stealing a bottle of John’s liquor. But the asshole had gone away overnight, god only knows where, and Dean was sure he could replace it. Cas had an older cousin with a fake ID and they often went to him when they needed a bottle or two. As the two boys unscrewed the cap and shared the bottle between them over laughs, Dean felt pretty good about himself. They were going to Meg’s party tonight, and they’d been invited over earlier than everyone else, with just a few of the other girls, but Anna had said she was going to come and bring a friend, which of course Meg was delighted about, given their slightly contrasting social status. Dean doubted that Meg had realised why Anna was coming, and that it was likely nothing to do with her. 

She’d flirted with him at school pretty much non stop since that first day in the cafeteria, and Dean had tried his damnedest to flirt back. Even if he was a bit awkward and clunky with his words, she seemed to like it. And she was pretty, really fucking pretty. He liked the way her dyed red hair shone in the light, how it fell across her shoulders and how she flicked it out of her face. He liked her shape, too. She was slim and small and he wondered how she’d feel if he pressed her against his body, if it would make him feel strong and powerful. He liked her big brown eyes and the way her lashes curled just right, whether that was makeup or not he didn’t care. He just liked her, and he got the impression that she liked him, too. 

As he splashed the whiskey down his throat and swallowed, he looked back at his dorky friend with those irritatingly blue eyes that pierced through his soul every time. Cas smiled, his face asking the question he couldn’t voice. It was secretly destroying him inside, watching Dean fall for this girl when he knew there was so much unresolved inside of him, so much he wanted to be allowed to help him with. But still he smiled, because he’d known what he was getting into the minute he realised he was in love. He’d known that it would be nothing but pain and heartbreak from that point on because, like he’d always known, Dean was straight. And even if he wasn’t he’d make himself straight just for the show of it. 

“I do, Cas, I like her.” Dean’s lips curled at the corners and there was almost a fucking blush on his cheeks. A blush that made Cas’s heart swell and sink at the same time because he loved the sight of it but why oh fucking why was he not the reason it was there?

“Well maybe tonight you can finally show her?” Cas said with a grin when he’d rather have been smashing something to pieces. “It’s obvious that she’s crushing on you too.” 

Dean shrugged his shoulders in response but that smug little smile was still on his lips and Cas almost wanted to hit him for his insensitivity, especially after the new intimacy they were sharing. His friend seemed to have turned a corner with his confidence, and in the last few weeks he’d been getting far better at going shirtless when they spent the night together. Cas felt pretty strange about it, but in a good way. He could tell that their friendship was changing, he just didn’t know what it would be like when it had finished. 

 

*

 

Why on earth had he agreed to this? It was a really stupid fucking idea. Dean didn’t want to kiss anyone but her, but she’d seemed eager to make them play this stupid game and dance around their feelings for a while longer, so of course he’d agreed. She’d fluttered her eyelashes and smiled brightly and he’d melted like fucking butter and nodded happily while she’d downed the rest of her drink and set the bottle down on the floor, pulling their friends around to join them in the world’s worst idea of a game there ever was. 

He’d never forget the look on Cas’s face either, when Anna had explained that they were playing spin the bottle. He’d never forget that pissed off, almost exasperated look he’d given him as he’d glared into his eyes for that brief second before sucking in a breath and nodding once. Cas really was a good wing man if he was willing to sacrifice his… ok not first kiss, but second, third, fourth… however many kisses it would take just to see his friend happy. But Dean had seen him flirting rather successfully with Meg herself earlier, and Hannah was there too, so maybe he wouldn’t be too mad. Maybe he was just a bit nervous and reluctant. He might actually thank him later, if Meg let him take her to bed. He was certainly drunk enough, they were all pretty smashed. 

The bottle whooshed when Anna spun it, taking first go from her seat next to Dean, her eyes not leaving him the whole time it was spinning. But it didn’t land on him, because of course it wouldn’t, and it instead was pointing at her best friend, Katie, when it stopped. She rolled her eyes in faux exasperation, muttering something about how maybe they should have a rule against same sex couples, but then someone else pointed out how that sounded homophobic and she pretended to act like she was pissed off but she knew damn well that Dean was getting kind of turned on by the idea of her kissing another girl and she dragged out her complaint a little longer. 

“And you have to use tongues. That’s just the rules.” Hannah was pointing out, her voice a high giggle. 

“And I think it should last at least thirty seconds.” Meg had added, and at that Anna had leant forward and teased a kiss from Katie’s lips, lingering slowly before pressing in for more, her friend working against her like they did this all the time. Part of Dean hoped they did. The other girls began a countdown of the time left in jest. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to but he chanced a glance at Castiel, who was watching the girls with a tilted head and a confused expression, completely impartial and not into it in the least. Cas looked over to meet his eyes and smiled genuinely, and it took a lot for Dean to drag his eyes back over to the sight before him. 

When Dean laid his fingers on the bottle moments later he was praying to any god that would listen for it to spin to Anna, but he’d never been lucky, and it landed instead on Hannah, who seemed impartial but not exactly interested. He smiled almost coyly as he shuffled over onto his knees and she leant toward him. His lips touched hers slowly and her response was warm and far from hesitant but there were no sparks and he felt nothing, not even when she opened her mouth and his tongue was allowed to dip inside and feel its way around her. He could hear the countdown as clear as day and when they reached the number one he pulled away feeling no different. She looked as unfeeling as he was. 

Castiel was to his side, and he reached out for the bottle next. Meg was of course, overjoyed when it span to rest at her feet, and from out of nowhere this cocky, confident grin spread across Cas’s lips. Her dark hair fell in waves around the rounded face that lit up to her eyelids. She was sat only next to him, and his hands went to her, one on her waist and the other cupping her cheek as he dipped forward and hovered his lips above hers. Dean remembered what that had felt like when Cas had done it to him and it sent a shiver down his spine as he recalled the feeling of his hot breath. He watched as Cas kissed her, and as she gripped his back with need and want and he deepened the kiss quickly and fiercely. He watched as Meg melted under his heat and he could see the gooseflesh on her skin from the distance he was at. It was with alarm that he realised it was hurting to watch. It was with fear that he realised he was a little jealous. 

The countdown did eventually finish, and Cas did eventually let her go, although her cheeks remained bright pink and her pupils lust blown. Dean definitely wasn’t struggling to breathe, definitely hadn’t just felt a rush of anger towards a girl that had done nothing wrong, towards his friend who had done even less. He watched anxiously as the bottle span on Meg’s turn and it landed on Katie, but it did nothing for him when they kissed in front of him, and it was hard not to stare at Castiel, watching his eyes for any sign of arousal. 

It seemed like an age passed before it was Anna’s go again. He’d had to kiss two of the other girls in the meantime and he had almost forgotten that he wanted to kiss her until she looked at him purposefully as she spun, and rolled her eyes when it dodged him again and landed on his best friend. It hurt even more, watching Cas kiss Anna. He’d shot Dean an apologetic glance when he’d leant forward to press his lips against hers because he’d known why they were playing this stupid game in the first place, and Dean had returned him a look that said _don’t worry about it_ , but actually he’d felt incredibly protective and weird when their lips were together. 

The worrying thing was, though, that it wasn’t Anna he felt protective over. 

So once again it was his turn, and Anna had given his fingers a squeeze before he’d spun because she’d felt weird too about kissing his friend instead of him. The bottle slowed as it approached her, but it didn’t stop, and it rolled just a few inches more, stopping instead directly in front of the last person he wanted to kiss in the circle, at least in public.

“Seriously?” Cas groaned as he stared into the green glass. The girls all thought it hilarious, were all laughing. “I’m not doing that.” Cas insisted. 

While he was maybe a little hurt at Castiel’s outright refusal Dean could admit that the thought of an audience was terrifying, particularly given how he’d reacted last time. He knew the girls wouldn’t let them off that easy though, not when he’d insisted they kiss each other for his amusement, and it was Anna who started off with the teasing. 

“I don’t make the rules, Castiel, the bottle does.” She sung, giggling. Her eyes were bright and joyful when Dean looked into them, and he rolled his eyes to make a point. 

“No.” Castiel repeated, and when Dean chanced a look at him he seemed pissed, glaring at Anna like she was worshipping the devil. 

“Come on, Castiel, you made us kiss.” Meg laughed as she gestured between herself and Katie. Katie too was wearing a smirk that made her pink lip gloss drag an unflattering line across her face. 

“So? I’m not doing it. It’s weird, he’s my best friend.” 

“And Anna’s my best friend!” Katie said petulantly, a pout on her lips that she was trying not to laugh through. 

“You’re girls, it’s different.” He was insisting. 

“How is it different?” Anna chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Cas.” Dean interrupted suddenly, and his friend turned to look him in the eye, an unsure vulnerability in his depths. “Cas… just kiss me already.” 

He looked defeated, and it would have been almost sad if Dean hadn’t felt so fucking anxious. He remembered well how he’d reacted the first time they’d kissed. He’d not forgotten about that unfortunate hard-on Cas had incited in him, or how he’d had butterflies in his stomach. He’d not forgotten how weird he’d felt ever since, and how secretly he wanted it, wanted to kiss him again. But he also hadn’t forgotten how fucking amazing it had felt, and he was definitely willing to feel that wonderful again. 

“Make sure it’s with tongues.” Hannah choked between giggles, and if looks could kill Castiel would be arrested for homicide. 

“Come on.” Dean whispered, his hand having found its way to Cas’s shoulder already. Cas looked back at him, alarmed by how close they suddenly were, and he let his gaze drop down to his best friend’s lips. Dean smiled when Cas’s hand went to his waist and he swallowed as he leaned in, and purposefully closed the distance between them, his lips brushing so lightly against his friend’s. 

Cas paused after a brief second and pulled away just a little, grimacing as his hand reached up to Dean’s cheek. Dean knew he was playing to the audience, knew that he wasn’t really feeling so disgusted that he had to stop, because he couldn’t be. It felt too fucking good when their lips were together for Cas not to be feeling this too. It felt more fucking right and more fucking special than it had with any of those girls.

It was already better than all of his other kisses put together. He couldn’t describe it in words but it was fucking amazing and when Cas leaned back in it was with purpose and his mouth fell easily open to let Dean inside and he lost track of where his hands were because he was grabbing at his friend’s waist or hips or shoulder, he wasn’t sure but he was pulling him closer with need and want as he drank in that perfect fucking taste and allowed the electricity to fry his brain and melt his heart. Castiel’s heat was ridiculous and it was burning him up but he loved the pain, wanted more of it. 

He was aware enough of his surroundings to stifle the moan that didn’t reach his lips but he knew his hands were giving him away to his friend. Cas was feeling it too, he knew. Cas was loving every second of this just as much as he was and why they didn’t do this for fun more often he’d never know, because he wasn’t sure if this was about feelings so much as about the actual lust of it and fuck they were close enough to survive kissing each other senseless before maybe they could make it a habit. He certainly wouldn’t have any fucking complaints if Cas kept turning him into Jell-O in the way he did. This was just because they were friends anyway, it wasn’t like he was crushing on the guy. It wasn’t like he was fantasising about him at night or jacking off to the thought of him… except that he had done once or twice. Three times, at most. He thought about Anna a lot too. 

That fantastic fucking feeling in his mind had blocked out all of his other senses and he hadn’t even realised that the countdown had finished until Cas had pulled suddenly away and pushed against his chest to sit him back up. He was too drunk to have realised what a stupid idea that was, too drunk to think about how the throbbing erection in his pants was inappropriate and weird. Not that anyone else could see it from where he was sat awkwardly. He couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, but he grinned at the pink blush on Castiel’s cheeks when he glanced at him. His laugh turned into a genuine smile when he saw the truth inside of those blue eyes, that his internal monologue was reading the same as his own was. 

When Anna nudged him he beamed at her, because he felt somehow so much happier right now. He was still looking at her when he heard the bottle stop moving, and next to him Castiel dropped his head into his hands, because when he looked up, again the bottle was pointed back at him. The girls now were rolling around in a fit of laughter, because apparently Castiel being so uncomfortable was hilarious for them. 

In an attempt to make it quick and painless, Dean lifted his hand quickly to Cas’s cheek and pulled their lips back together again, having no personal problem with enjoying yet another kiss. Cas kissed him back, and well, but there was more hesitation in him this time than there had been on the first. He felt to Dean a bit more broken, and even when he squeezed his waist with his free hand he lacked the enthusiasm he'd had the first time around. Maybe he’d pushed his luck too far, or maybe this really was all in his head. Maybe Cas hadn’t felt the same about the kiss after all.

There was still a few seconds left on the girl’s countdown when Cas pulled abruptly away, wrinkling his nose. Dean almost felt offended as he was looked in the eye. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just too weird.” Cas said quietly, but the girls were all grinning and chuckling. In reality it was just too painful for him, knowing that Dean was kissing him only by instruction when he’d rather be kissing the girl sat to his side. 

Anna smiled, taking pity or the high road or whatever, and she told him it was ok as Dean continued to question him with his eyes. Even though it wasn’t her turn, anywhere near her turn in fact, Anna had obviously decided that she was taking a turn, and neither Meg nor the other girls thought to question her when she placed her fingers on the bottle and rotated it purposefully in a full three sixty, lifting her hand away when it pointed once again at Dean Winchester. 

She had no problem basically climbing into his lap, and there were no doubts in her eyes when she lowered her lips to his and dragged a long, slow kiss from him. She had such a confidence, and as she pressed in again and her tongue went down his throat they all knew the game was over, and Castiel was left unable to watch as his friend had his world blown by the red haired girl. He did notice though, later on, when she lead him upstairs, but by that point he had Meg pinned against the wall in spite, had his lips moving against hers and her tongue dancing with his own.

 

*

 

It really was exhilarating, the thought of fucking someone he actually had a crush on. He was still hard. His dick hadn’t let off since Cas had got him interested with that stupid kiss, but Anna’s tongue and her lips and her boobs and her dumb little denim skirt had kept him at attention. When she’d pulled him by the arm and nodded toward the stairs his eyes had darkened with anticipation, and he’d been keen to go up with her, slamming the door behind him as they barricaded themselves in someone’s bedroom, as she pressed her body back against his and allowed him to grind his hips into her abdomen. 

The pink camisole she wore hung to her breast and showed off her copious cleavage, and he found himself looking down at it as she moved her lips to his jaw and his neck and his hands dropped lower to grab at her ass and pull her against him. She laughed every time he let out a little moan because his cock was aching with need and he wanted to be in her right this minute but she was going to drag it out because she knew she could. Her pretty lips smiled before they met his own again. 

They kissed for minutes or hours or a whole year. And it did feel nice. Not in the sparks flying, electric coursing through his veins way that Cas had made him feel but then, he reasoned, he didn’t know Anna so well. It must just be an emotional thing with Cas. This felt good enough. Plus he was so drunk he wasn’t panicking at all. 

Or at least, he hadn’t been. 

Anna’s hand slipped to his abdomen and pulled his shirt up from where it was tucked into his jeans. The second that her finger hit his flesh he froze, and his breath caught. He pulled out of the kiss, nuzzling against her head to buy himself some time as she continued to pull away the fabric, and he tried to calm himself down. But it was no use. He needed more time than she was giving. 

He lifted up his hand and placed it gently on hers, holding it still for a moment as he pulled away to look at her. She eyed him curiously when she glanced up at him, as if daring him to stop her. 

“Just slow down a bit.” He whispered, although the words were hard to get out and he sounded like a total coward. 

“Why? This isn’t your first time.” She stated, confused. He’d told her about Cassie some weeks before and she’d assumed he’d be an easy lay. 

“I know.” Dean breathed. “But please.” He said quietly, but he bent back down to recapture her lips, keeping her hand pressed against the scars he didn’t want her to see. She changed her tactics then, abandoning the shirt and going instead for his jeans, swiftly undoing the button and the zipper while Dean began to freeze up even harder. Her hand dipped quickly inside the denim and found his hard length, giving him a squeeze with a firm palm and firm fingers, but rather than be turned on Dean found himself freaking out, as those images overwhelmed him again, as he became that helpless fucking child in the bathroom and he felt just as trapped against that door as he had done the first time around. 

“Stop.” He said suddenly, and although she stopped the movements she’d been doing she held her hand still against his cock as she looked up at him suspiciously. His heart was rocking with palpitations and as usual his lungs had copped out, taking the easy exit at the first sign of panic. He couldn’t even look at her. He didn’t want to see her face in case it wasn’t her he looked down on. In case it was the strange man looking back at him with his cock out and his camera ready. In case the strange man would grab his dick like he had done and shove a finger where it didn’t belong. 

No fucking way. 

Dean put a hand on her shoulder and pressed firmly, forcing her to take a single step back that left him enough space to make a break. His eyes remained squeezed shut as he yanked on the door and stumbled through it, as he all but fell down the stairs and crashed through the front door into the yard, as he broke into a short but sharp run before he tumbled down under a tree. 

 

*

 

“Castiel?!” Someone had yelled. He let the firm grip he had on Meg’s shoulders loosen as he dragged his lips away from hers to face Hannah. “It’s Dean, he’s just run off.” 

He cursed as he looked around, the party now in full swing and the music blaring. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see, but Dean definitely wasn’t in that room. He let go of Meg with an apologetic look before he followed the shorter girl with dark, curly hair out into the yard, wondering if she was telling the truth or just trying to get him alone. He didn’t really care if it was a lie, because he’d been getting bored with kissing Meg anyway. 

It was time he accepted that he was definitely, truly, one hundred percent not into girls. Meg had been fondling his cock for the better part of the last ten minutes and she’d got absolutely nowhere, while every time Dean had kissed him he’d had to hold back from coming in his pants. So that was that, then. He was definitely gay. He wondered how Dean would take it when he told him. He wondered how he would ever pluck up the courage _to_ tell him. _If_ he would pluck up the courage. If he hadn’t already figured it out from how little control he’d had while they were kissing, that is.

As he stepped outside and the cooler air hit his arms his attentions were taken up immediately. Hannah hadn’t been lying after all. Dean was stumbling forward blindly, through the middle of the street, half crippled in pain or fear and looking like he was about to pass out at any given moment. Cas could tell from here how drained of colour he was. 

Without thinking, not even a split second thought, Cas rushed forward, leaving Hannah and Meg and Anna and everyone at the stupid party behind as he caught up with Dean just as he’d slumped under a tree. He sank to his knees and his hands reached out to his best friend automatically, his fingers going to the back of his neck and pulling him in close in support and comfort and in love. He was whispering reassurances to an unknown problem because whatever it was he was going to fix it and help. He might have been drunk, but he wasn’t so drunk that he forgot himself. He’d nearly planted a kiss on his friend’s cheek. 

Castiel breathed loudly and slowly when he realised Dean wasn’t breathing normally, and when Dean’s arms reached out for him he shuffled closer, effectively straddling his legs as he held him and allowed him to cry against his chest. He couldn't help but feel like this was how it was meant to be, just the two of them. He didn’t dislike Anna or Meg or Hannah or Cassie or anyone else who wanted either of them but it didn’t feel right in the way that he felt when Dean was pulled against him, and he wondered if that was half of Dean’s problem, that the girls just weren’t right. 

A little while later, when Dean had stilled, Cas pulled back just enough to cup his cheeks in his hands and look him in the eye. His eyes were red and bloodshot from his upset, but he stared back with his terror written plainly through them. He had no idea what the matter was, but he could comfort him all the same. Maybe his experience with Anna had been as bad, or worse, as with Cassie. He paused for a moment to think about the effect that might have had on his confidence. 

After some time, Cas pulled himself off of Dean’s legs, and offered a hand out to help pull him up, which his friend took gladly. As he stood, Cas noticed his dishevelled state, how his shirt was half tucked and half free, and how his zipper was still undone. His hands went to work without thinking, and Dean just stared at him blankly as he was redressed, allowing himself to be led as Cas pulled on his arm and started to walk him back home. 

They chose to stay at Dean’s that night, because John was away and Sam was at a friend’s. They traipsed up the stairs without a second glance, and it was only when they were back in their safe space that Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and let his head fall against his shoulder. Cas might not have been so drunk as Dean, because when Dean’s lips left a kiss against his neck he stiffened in surprise. Instead of freak out or run or take it further, though, he pulled back to look into Dean’s eyes, taking in the vulnerability within them, the fear and the horror. 

With a nod, Cas gestured his head toward the bed, and tugged once on Dean’s hand to pull him over to it, wrapping his arms back where they belonged when Dean shuffled closer to him. 

“I couldn’t do it.” Dean whispered after a while. Cas didn’t have to ask what _it_ was. And he knew damn well who _it_ was with. 

“How come?” He asked instead. 

“Freaked out.” Was the only explanation he was given. They lay in silence for a while longer, until Dean rolled suddenly onto his back and pulled his hands up to cover his face. “What am I gunna do?” He asked, stricken and desperate. 

“You’ll get there.” Cas said quietly, his voice as comforting as he could muster. He let an arm lie across Dean’s stomach. “You just need to get more comfortable with yourself first.” 

Dean supposed that much was true. He was far from comfortable, and maybe with experience and practice and other things to associate sex with he’d get past the things that Cassie had made him relive. Maybe he just needed time and a few more chances. “Maybe.” He agreed. “I couldn’t even let her touch my cock, Cas.” 

“Why?” Castiel asked suddenly. Something dark had been playing on his mind for a while now, but he didn’t want to ask the question because he wasn’t sure how to respond or to deal with it if his awful suspicions were correct. 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s confidence, maybe I just don’t feel comfortable enough with her.” 

“Dean, you’re not comfortable with anyone.” Cas sighed, unsure that his friend was being completely honest. 

“Except you.” 

“Yes, but I’m not going to touch your cock or let you fuck me.” 

Dean snorted then, and Cas grinned, pleased to have at least brought a smile to his lips. It was a long time before either of them spoke again, and Dean had shuffled even closer in his bid to feel safe again. He did, feel safe that is, with Cas here. He always felt good in the boy’s arms, always felt whole and complete and right. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe this was the way they were supposed to be, permanently together and permanently cuddling. Dean smiled despite himself as he looked up at the ceiling, a strange yet tantalising thought crossing his mind. 

For a while he daydreamed, thinking about their practice kiss and their spin the bottle kiss and wondering what it would be like if they had a real kiss. He wondered what it would be like if they had a real relationship, and decided that actually, deep down he wanted that. The problem was, however, that there was no way on this green earth that it could ever happen, because John Winchester was the biggest fucking homophobe known to mankind and if he thought he’d raised a faggot then he’d be dead before sun up. 

But then maybe it didn’t have to be real, with Cas. Maybe he could have the intimacy he needed from Anna, without it being from Anna. He’d already realised that he was only comfortable around his best friend, so how was he expecting to fuck anyone else while he was so messed up? Maybe if he and Cas just… fooled around a little, it would be enough that he’d get past it, that he’d grow up and forget about his childhood trauma and be able to focus on the pleasure that fucking girls should be bringing him. Maybe he just needed the practice and confidence that he knew Cas could give him. 

It must have been obvious, the turning cogs in his mind, because when he looked back, Cas was eyeing him with an anxious, suspicious expression like he knew exactly what he was about to say. 

“What?” Cas asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I was just thinking.” Dean began, slightly nervous. How do you ask your best friend to practice sexual activity with you? 

“About?” Cas prompted. 

“I’m completely terrified of sex.” Dean said quietly, and Cas continued to eye him cautiously. 

“Are you that traumatised by Cassie?” 

“I guess so.” Perhaps not by Cassie but he was definitely traumatised. Cassie had just been the unfortunate girl that had brought it all back to the surface. 

“So what were you thinking?” Castiel asked. 

“I’m only comfortable around you.” Dean whispered, and Cas’s eyes were getting narrower by the second. 

“And…?” 

“I need your help, Cas.” 

“What help? Dean, I’ve already told you, I won’t do anything weird. We’ve already made out three times in the last two months… I don’t want to make it any more awkward.” 

“Please?” Dean asked, suddenly shy, and incredibly nervous. “Just hand stuff, just touch me, so that I can get over it.” 

“Can you even hear yourself right now?” Cas chastised, although his own cock had already twitched to attention at just the thought of giving his friend a hand job. “It’s too far, Dean. It’s too weird. As if kissing you wasn’t weird enough.” 

“It wasn’t weird and you know it.” Dean snapped suddenly, feeling defensive over their relationship and his confused feelings and boundaries. “I know it _should_ be weird, Cas. But it isn’t. And we should use that. We could actually get good at stuff. You should do this because it’ll be good practice for you, too.” 

“What do you mean, good practice? I’m not gay!” 

“I wouldn’t care if you were gay.” Dean smiled, a little too knowingly for Castiel’s liking and pissing him off even more. 

“I’m not gunna jack you off, Dean, it’s too far.” 

“Cas I need your help. Please. I’m begging you.” Dean whispered, and he’d moved so much closer over the last few moments that their foreheads were all but touching and Dean’s hand was already on his waist, and if he pulled forward he’d notice that Cas was hard as a fucking rock in his pants. He decided against giving Cas any more time to consider, and instead dipped his lips in to meet his friend’s for the third time that evening, pressing slowly but firmly against them and letting a smile curl into his lips when Castiel’s pushed back. 

“Don’t you dare let this fuck up our friendship.” Cas hissed suddenly, pulling away just to hover against his lips before he plunged back into them, letting his tongue reenter Dean and shivering at the moan he let out. They kissed for a few more moments before Dean broke apart from him, keeping his lips only a fraction away from Castiel’s. 

“I won’t, but you can’t deny how fucking good this feels.” He grinned, and Cas smiled brightly back at him as he dragged his body against his own once again. 

Ever cautious, Cas was taking it too slow for Dean’s liking, so he pulled his own shirt over his head without much of a thought and Cas eyed him, almost impressed as he went back to work at kissing his neck and his jaw. 

“Touch me.” Dean whispered after a few more minutes of being kissed senseless, and although there was an anxious fear in both of their eyes when Cas looked up he obliged, and the palm of his hand cupped Dean’s crotch and pressed in, feeling how fucking hard he was and how much he wanted it. It was the biggest turn on he’d ever experienced, and his own cock strained for purchase against his boxers. 

Even though it was only Cas, his _Cas_ , even though he felt completely safe and completely ready for this, Dean still had that sense of dread in his stomach when Castiel’s hand undid his zipper again, when his fingers touched his cock through the fabric of his boxers. His breathing became ragged and not out of lust. He took his hand out to grip Castiel’s spare, and squeezed it by way of letting him know how he was feeling. Cas opened his eyes and watched his friend’s expression change from fear to calm when he applied pressure to his crotch, watched the pleasure rush into the calm when he lifted his hand and dived inside the boxers, massaging his erection with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye. 

After a few moments Dean let go of Cas’s hand and it came up instead to course through his hair. Dean rolled onto his back after he’d shuffled his jeans and boxers out of the way and stripped himself completely naked. The sight of him was fucking unbearable, and Cas had literally no choice but to palm at his own cock in his jeans. He was getting him off now, slowly but surely, and Dean was clearly enjoying the sensation, his back arching with pleasure every time he added a little squeeze to his tip. 

It took a few minutes for Dean to notice that Cas was as completely turned on as he was, that he’d been ignoring his friend’s needs in favour of his own.

“Are you hard too?” He asked quietly, a smile on his lips. “It’s ok if you are, I just want to help you.” 

“Stop making this weird.” Castiel’s hand suddenly slowed and his expression contorted into a grimace, feeling awkward and embarrassed as his mind started to catch up with what a terrible idea this all was, but Dean had his own plans, and when his hand came up to cup his cheek he let himself drown in those peridot eyes which told him that it was all ok. His breath caught and his heart pounded impossibly faster when Dean kissed him again, and when he felt the other hand fumble with his own buttons. 

It took Dean a few moments to manage them, but soon he’d dragged the denim and boxers out of the way and taken Cas’s dick in his grip and _Jesus_ was he big. He pumped along the whole length and his mouth was practically watering because fuck he hadn’t known how much Cas was packing. 

It was like being in fucking heaven. And yet it was terrifying. This was exactly how he supposed it should have been with Cassie, how it should have been with Anna. He felt on top of the fucking world and like everything was meant to be happening just the way it was and every little movement Castiel made was ecstasy. His hand was so big and large and completely unlike the girls’s hands had been, which was totally blowing his mind. He was mirroring his movements, trying to copy what Cas was doing and give him back what he liked, and he’d have asked him for what he wanted if he’d had enough breath to do so. But for now he was content, content in the complete pleasure he was being given, in the love he was being shown. Because that’s what it boiled down to, really. Love. 

That white horizon was drawing closer and Cas was beginning to shake and twitch so he knew he was right there with him. He picked up his speed and moaned when Cas did the same, pumping at his cock with delicious perfect thrusts that were picking him up and throwing him over the edge. If this is what hand stuff felt like, then fuck. Maybe they could do this again someday, he’d blow Cas if he got to feel him come down his throat. He wondered if Cas would ever agree to fuck him. He thought he’d like to be fucked, he was picturing that huge dick inside his ass. He leant back in and kissed him deeply because he wanted to do this together and be as close as he possibly could be when it happened, and Cas lapped back at him with fervour. He was getting close now, so fucking close. Standing on the precipice and peering over the edge. 

With a shake and a groan Cas went first, and as his come poured out over his hand and his face betrayed his complete elation Dean couldn’t hold on either, and he spilled out over them both, moaning out his friend’s name with a curse and a gasp. He kissed him as he was coming down, because he was unsure if he’d be allowed to kiss him later, and he had to remember how he tasted in that moment. 

They lay for a while, catching their breath. After some time Castiel’s hands went up to cover his eyes and he shook his head violently, chest beginning to tighten as his heart throbbed with regret. 

“That was too far.” He whispered, and Dean looked up at him with confused, scared eyes. "Too fucking weird. What the hell have you done? What were you thinking?"

Dean couldn't help but be taken aback by the sharpness of Castiel's tone. He'd just been thinking the exact opposite, how actually it still wasn't far enough. Before his friend had spoken he'd been starting to come to terms with the truth, that maybe there was more to their relationship than he'd let himself accept. His words had pierced him like a knife, and there was pain pooling in his lungs. 

“I’m sorry.” Dean said simply, and when Castiel looked at him he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty because he looked completely bewildered. And actually, before he could do something he’d regret like kiss him again or try and convince him to fall in love he just needed a moment to himself. Cas groaned, pulling himself quickly off of the bed and dragging his boxers and pants back on while Dean did the same. Although it had been amazing at the time, kissing him had hurt like hell afterwards, when he hadn’t been able to do it again the next day. This was going to be the death of him, he was sure. When he turned and looked back, Dean had pulled his boxers on at least, but he could still see his toned abdomen and those fucking arms with muscles that should have meant he worked out twice a week. 

With a hand running through his hair while he looked up at the ceiling, Dean opened his mouth, but chickened out at the last minute, unsure what to say. He was confused, completely and utterly. Because not only had he just realised that he’d somehow, at some point, fallen for his best friend, he was now having to come to terms with the fact that Cas either didn’t want him back, or hadn’t accepted it himself. He’d thought he’d enjoyed it too. He felt the bed dip next to him with Castiel’s weight, and when he looked up he was met with a half smile. 

“I don’t want this to ruin us.” Cas said quietly. “This can’t happen again. We’re friends, Dean. Just friends. And friends don’t do _that._ ” 

Whatever was going on inside Castiel’s head, he was right at least. Dean nodded, because even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, if he was honest, he needed an out. He might have finally realised that some of the feelings he had for his best friend weren't exactly platonic, but at the same time that didn’t mean he could suddenly come out and start going to pride parades. He had a father to keep happy. A father that would kill him if he knew what he’d just done. That would probably kill Cas too, and Sam for good measure. He couldn’t take the risk, even if the end result might just be worth it. _Two more years._ Maybe then… if Cas even did want him in that way. 

“Yeah, sorry. Totally weird.” Dean lied. Castiel shook his head again but there was a smile on his lips where he was holding back a laugh, and Dean looked up to question him with his eyes. 

“You realise that before you ran off I was reaching second base with Meg?” Cas grinned, because he hadn’t actually minded the interruption but he was enjoying the brag. He just needed to change the subject.

“Congrats?” Dean said with a broad smile, almost a question. Is this how it was going to be now? Denying anything had ever happened? “Sorry for cock-blocking… both of us I guess.” 

“We did still get _some_ action.” Cas rolled his eyes, balling his hand into a fist and hitting his friend lightly on the arm. He was trying to remember how to be normal but failing miserably. His voice went suddenly quieter. “Tell me it helped, at least?”

“I don’t know, I think so.” Dean shrugged. His face was contorted half in a smile and half in a grimace. “I got further with you than with Anna.” 

“Are you gunna try again with her?” Cas asked carefully. He wanted to be told no, but he knew that would be pushing his luck. 

“If she lets me, I guess.” He’d have some apologising to do, that was for sure, but maybe he could do it now that he had something else to associate it with. Maybe he could fool himself into thinking it was just Cas’s hand, maybe it would be enough to forget the strange man. 

“She’d be crazy not to.” Castiel smiled, knowing damn well how it sounded. Dean looked up at him with a curious grin of his own, and all of the frustration Cas was holding in his stomach dissipated at the look of him. He was drunk enough to forgive and forget right now. Without a second thought he prodded a finger into Dean’s torso and lay down when his friend scooted over, grimacing a little at the unclean blankets, which they turned around the other way for the night. Cas held out his arm, and Dean pulled himself magnetically close, holding them together. They both knew this would be the last time for a while that they’d spend the night like this. 


	7. "I asked you a question, boy."

It was a loud crashing noise that woke him, not the shout. But when the shout was repeated, he sprang upright, sat at attention, while a horrible panic pooled in his stomach. The footsteps on the stairs were heavy and loud - Dean knew exactly who they belonged to, and it wasn’t Sam. He looked down to his left, at his still sleeping best friend whose arms were still out from where they’d just been around him. He couldn’t be here for this, he had to get him out, and fast. 

“Boy!” The shout came again, perhaps even angrier for not having been answered already. That menace was there in the tone, along with the anger and malice and the slur of alcohol consumption. Dean was no fool, he knew the signs, knew what he was in for today. The shout had been louder this time, so much louder that even Castiel stirred next to him, opening a tired, confused eye as he looked up at his petrified friend. 

“Cas, you gotta go.” Dean whispered, hurried and scared. Castiel just frowned at him, trying to protest with a sleepy question that Dean chose to ignore. “Please. Get up, now.” He begged, already out of the bed himself and dragging a shirt on over his abdomen. 

The steps were outside the door now, and Cas was looking more alarmed by the second. He had at least dragged himself upright, had grabbed a shirt too from the pile on Dean’s floor and pulled it hastily on, not caring that it wasn’t his own. The look Cas shot him was full of questions when he went to open the door and Dean held him back with a hand on his arm. He tugged, pulling Castiel back into the room and behind himself, standing half in front as a shield as the door opened from the outside, and the towering frame of his father appeared, looming over them, shaded by the light. 

“Hi.” Dean said quietly, and Castiel wasn’t an idiot, he could hear the shake in his voice. He just didn’t know why he was so scared of his own father. 

“You drank my liquor.” John said simply, his voice laced with poison. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll get you more.” Dean admitted, his arm still crossed across Castiel’s front and clutching his arm, squeezing slightly. Cas was surprised at how blasé Dean had been about the fact that they’d drank a whole bottle when they were still very underage, until he realised that John’s issue wasn’t the fact that they’d had it, it was that they’d taken it from him. Just how bad was this guy’s drinking problem? And why was Dean so fucking scared? 

“Was it your idea?” John asked, and his eyes narrowed with his anger. His gaze flicked across to pierce Castiel. “Or was it your faggot friend’s?” 

“What did you just say?” Dean blurted suddenly, temper flaring. His fear temporarily dampened by his anger. Castiel narrowed his eyes, hurt by John’s words and his tone. “Cas is my best friend, don’t you dare…”

John seemed pleased at the sudden show of emotion he’d elicited from his son, like he’d revealed his only weakness. His wet lips curled into an unsightly, malicious smile. Dean’s hand dropped suddenly from Castiel’s arm as Cas watched the exchange, worried he was about to do something stupid, really stupid.  

“I asked you a question, boy.” John had inched closer to Dean while he spoke, his lips now only centimetres apart from Dean’s head, his hands in fists at his sides. Whatever courage had just flared in his son dissipated the closer he got. 

“It was my idea, _dad_.” Dean hissed, aware that he’d be paying for that later. He only needed a few minutes, and he didn’t care, couldn’t bring himself to worry about his own safety, because at the moment Cas was at risk and he needed him out of the house, needed him somewhere safe, especially since John had been brave enough to take a stab at him already. Who knows what he might do if provoked. 

John drew himself back up straight, glaring down at the two teenage boys. “I think we need to have a talk, _son._ ” He all but whispered, his voice full of warning. Yep, he’d definitely be paying for that later. “Maybe if you get rid of your _best friend_ for even two minutes you can come and talk to me in the kitchen.” It wasn’t a question at all. He turned on his feet and traipsed back down the stairs, while Dean tried not to shake in his wake. Cas was looking at him with alarm when he turned back to face him. 

“Are you alright? Is he always that bad?” Cas whispered, hand going out to squeeze Dean’s arm once they were alone again. Dean flinched at the touch, and shook his friend’s hand away. How could he have been so stupid? It seemed like John knew something had happened between them, like he could tell things had changed. Had he been acting differently enough to let him work it out? Surely he hadn’t. John always just had this way of knowing what was going on in his head. He’d been taking too many unnecessary risks recently, risking not just his own safety but Castiel’s too, and he couldn’t keep doing that. Cas was too fucking important to him. He might have decided he had some non platonic feelings for him but he shouldn’t have compromised his safety for it. It couldn’t happen again. But what was going to happen now? Would Cas figure things out after that little show? 

“I’m fine.” Dean said, as convincingly as he could, even though he was really not fine at all, and if Cas had been less in denial he might have realised that Dean was shaking violently out of fear not adrenaline. “He’s just drunk.” With a gesture of his head Dean led the way downstairs, part wishing that his friend wouldn’t leave because he was sure that John wouldn’t do anything while they had an audience, but mostly wanting to get him out to safety. But Cas being Cas, he hovered on the doorstep before he left. 

“Good luck with him… are you sure you’re ok?” He asked quietly, and Dean wasn’t sure how he had the strength left at that point to deny everything and pretend he was, but he found it from somewhere, and Cas walked back over to his house with a half frown, like he knew something was up but couldn’t quite put his finger on what. 

There was no point in delaying the inevitable, Dean knew. He knew as he watched Cas leave that he had to walk straight into that kitchen, into whatever horror was waiting for him, because if he didn’t it would be ten times worse when John did find him. John always found him. He’d tried before, to run or to hide. When he’d been younger and less willing to accept his fate he’d tried to get away. He even tried to drive once, when he was about eleven. He’d climbed into his father’s classic Impala, but the adventure had just ended up with him failing to figure out how to get the car out of park and crying into the steering wheel, his seven year old brother at his side. He could try again now, now that he knew how to drive, but he couldn’t run forever.

When Castiel had gone and he’d closed the door behind him, he took a breath, leaning back against it as he tried to stop his legs from shaking so much, tried to get a hold on his heart and his head. Literally everything in him was screaming, every piece of his pain dragged up to the surface. His father, his asshole, good for nothing father, was waiting for him, waiting to deal out another injury he barely deserved, waiting to deal out more insults to the only friend he had. John had compromised everything, Dean's entire chance at a normal life was consistently threatened by the man, and it was only his strength, his come out of nowhere strength, that kept him alive. Plus of course, he was still dealing with the fact that his friendship with Cas was clinging on by a thread, that he’d used him to fix old wounds, and instead gouged out new ones. 

Dean walked into the kitchen. 

 

*

 

His heart was rocking his chest with palpitations when he stepped back up to that doorstep. Castiel clutched the bottles tighter in his arm as his raised his hand and knocked. He’d done this a million times, why was he so scared? Something about John’s demeanour earlier had set him off balance. He knew Dean was scared of him, knew they didn’t have a great relationship and that his friend considered his father to be a complete asshole and a waste of everyone’s time, but he’d never really got it. Until now at least. He’d never had the pleasure of seeing John drunk before, and it wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat any time soon, but the thought of leaving Dean in there when he was in such an unstable mood didn’t sit well with him either. 

Instead, he’d called Gabriel. Explained that he needed an urgent favour, that he’d owe him one. His cousin had been reluctant to give up his Sunday afternoon, but Cas wore him down eventually, and Gabe had picked him up in his car, taken him to the store and picked out two bottles similar to the one he and Dean had taken the night before. Gabriel wasn’t his biological cousin, as Cas was adopted and had no clue who his biological parents had been, but he was Evelyn’s brother’s son, so that made him family, even if he was annoying, and liked to play pranks every ten seconds on his unwitting younger cousin at every family get together they were forced into. 

Castiel visibly relaxed when the door was opened, and the gangly, thin frame of Dean’s younger brother stood in front of it. The twelve year old was already marginally taller than his brother, and didn’t look as though he was going to stop growing any time soon. He was growing out his brown hair, which already hung past his ears, and he looked up with a quizzical smile that made him look wise beyond his years. Dean had always loved his brother, had always defended him even though he said they fought a lot, and Cas had always had time for the boy, always found him pleasant and often wondered how he could hit as hard as Dean claimed. But he’d seen the bruises. 

“Dean’s not in.” Sam said while Cas just stared at him. Cas raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering where his friend would have gone. He usually followed a similar routine, and it wasn’t like him to have gone anywhere interesting without consulting his friend first. His heart throbbed a little in panic. He hadn’t blown things that badly… had he? 

“Do you know where he is?” Cas asked curiously. 

Sam just shrugged. “I didn't see him, he was gone before I got back." He paused in thought. “Why do you have those bottles?”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Cas mumbled. “They’re for your dad, is he here?” 

“No, he went out too.” 

“Oh.” Cas said awkwardly, a frown on his brow. He was hardly old enough to be considered responsible and yet it seemed a bit wrong to him, that Sam was left alone at only twelve to fend for himself. Cas felt like he still probably should have a sitter. Perhaps John would be back soon. 

Sam’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. ”Do you want to come in? We could play video games while you wait for them?"  

 

 

*

 

“What you doing there, boy?” Said the gruff voice. The sudden sound amongst the silence made Dean jump, and he tried to blink back the stars in his eyes as he looked up into the eyes of his father’s friend. Apart from Castiel and his mother, Bobby Singer was about the only other person that made him feel safe. The grizzled old guy who permanently wore a baseball cap and had a moustache that his father envied had always been there for him, in a roundabout kind of way. Tough love, Dean would have called it. But better than no love at all. 

“I… uh…” Dean mumbled, trying to come up with some kind of excuse. He couldn’t actually remember coming to the salvage yard, which backed up on Bobby’s house, a towering, three storey, blue painted structure, that could have done with a feminine touch. He hadn’t done this for a while, wandered out after an incident. He supposed in his dazed state he’d just tried to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from his dangerous father. Usually he’d have gone to Cas, but things were a little unclear now, and his subconscious mind had obviously picked up on that.

Bobby took one look at the young boy, and gestured with a sigh and an eye roll for Dean to follow him back into the house. He pulled out a chair at the dining table and Dean sat obediently, still showing signs of confusion and probably concussed. Bobby wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what was going on in that house, could see the signs of abuse written all over this boy just as they’d have been visible on himself all those years ago. Takes one to know one. But there wasn’t anything he could do. He’d never let on to Dean that he knew, but he spared him the bullshit all the same, never asked how he’d got himself hurt this time. Poor kid probably couldn’t keep up with the lies. 

Once upon a time, he’d tried. He’d tried to talk John down, tried to get him to see the error in his ways. It had been worse at the start, after Mary had burned, He’d been a fire blazing brighter than the one that had killed her, and Dean seemed his only obstacle. Bobby blamed himself a little for the seriousness of John’s drinking problem, but then the abuse might be worse if he hadn’t shown him the depths of the bottle. What could he do? John had buddies in the police, close pals, and was as big an asshole as there ever was. Bobby knew that if he crossed him he’d be exposed, the credit card and mail fraud stunts he’d pulled in the past would see him banged up for good. He was hardly an angel. And then what good would he have done? John would walk off untouched, but the kid would be left to fend for himself. 

“Your hand is hurt.” Bobbly said without emotion, and Dean looked down at his left hand like he was surprised. Bobby wasn’t wrong, his pinky was stuck out at an unnatural angle, the nail in half and there was blood all over it. He had no recollection of what had happened to it. He held it out obediently and Bobby sighed as he examined it, keeping it still despite Dean’s shaking. He stood suddenly, went off to fumble in a drawer and came back with some duct tape and a dampened towel. He cleaned the busted finger, patted it dry with the other end, and bound it roughly while Dean winced. It was hurting now. 

If Bobby had been brave enough to take the kid to the ER he knew they’d have done a better job, and he'd be left with less scars. He thought about the times in the past that he'd tended cuts to his stomach and back, how the scars were unsightly and every time he came back there were a couple more. It hurt him, seeing how he was being treated. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for the Winchester boys, he’d have adopted them given the chance. He supposed it was where he knew Dean’s pain, could sympathise with what he was going through, but he didn’t want to spook the boy, couldn’t let on that he knew. And the younger boy, so sensitive and sweet, innocent and oblivious. The younger boy was Mary’s son through and through, and the elder had a lot of her good qualities, but his upbringing had left him with John’s self hatred, too. 

As he looked down at his taped up fingers, Dean smiled gratefully, although it hurt like hell. He ran his good hand through his hair, a nauseated feeling pooling in his lungs when he realised it was slightly wet at the back of his head, heart skipping when he dropped his fingers to his lap and saw the blood on them. It explained the memory loss, at least. He remembered walking into the kitchen, but then nothing. He supposed he ought to make up some excuse, because although Bobby never asked Castiel would, Evelyn would, Anna would. Even his teachers might. He hadn’t looked at his face yet, either, but Bobby hadn’t mentioned it and hadn’t gone to fetch any ice so he supposed that was a good sign. He'd only just healed from the last punch. 

“How’s life, kid?” Bobby asked, and Dean knew he was actually interested. He wasn’t used to adults being interested. 

“Good?” He shrugged, although of course it was a complete lie. Good is not how he’d describe his life if he was being honest. Nothing was good when you weren’t safe in your own home. It wasn’t good to be in love with someone who may or may not feel the same but was completely off limits because of their gender. It wasn’t good to have almost ruined that relationship. It wasn’t good to have mixed feelings about a girl who you’d completely blown it with because of events in your past. Nor was it good to be failing most of your classes because your mind was on other things. His life just wasn’t good.

Bobby raised his eyebrows but chose not to comment, seeing between the lines and knowing damn well that it was an outright lie. “Do you want something?” He asked, in case Dean had come here not just for the patch up. 

“No.” Dean looked up, and there was a darkness behind his eyes that he couldn’t hide. A darkness that turned Bobby’s stomach. Dean made a snap decision that he hoped would be the right one. “I’ve uh… I’ve actually got to go. I’m being a coward. I’m gunna go ask a girl out.” 

 

*

 

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ He thought. _This is such a dumb idea._

The footsteps were right behind the perfectly painted front door and there was a shadow behind the glass now. What if it was her dad that answered? What the hell was he thinking, showing up out of the blue and knocking like this? He should have just waited, should have caught her tomorrow at school. 

“Hello?” An older woman looked at him curiously. She was smartly dressed, her brown hair hanging just above her shoulder and bouncing as she moved. She was obviously Anna’s mother. She looked enough like her that Dean was startled into silence. 

“Uh, hi.” He began after a long pause. He straightened his shirt and smiled. “I… uh… I’m a friend of Anna’s? I was wondering if I could speak to her?” 

The woman smiled back, but it was a little suspiciously. She took a step back into the house as she called up to her daughter, who appeared on the landing behind them moments later. From what Dean could see, the house was grand and expensive, or at least more so than he was used to. The furnishings looked stylish and well maintained, and the whole picture gave off an aura of lavishness. 

“Dean.” Anna looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. She folded her arms across her chest, but there was a glint in her eye that gave him hope. 

“Can we, uh, can we talk, Anna?” He asked, and after a long moment she nodded, and trailed down the stairs. She grabbed her jacket from the rack and kissed her mom on the cheek, explaining that she would be back soon, and stepped out into the cooling air to meet him. 

“You hurt your hand.” She commented, as they walked away. He just shrugged. She made sure they were a good distance away from the house before she opened her mouth again. “So, what do you want?” She said, when they were at the other end of the street. 

“To apologise.” Dean replied honestly. He had to get her to forgive him, because he had to convince everyone, including himself, that he was straight, that he could live a normal life. He had to pretend that he didn’t have feelings for Castiel, had to stop being so weird around him. The things his dad had said had spooked him. He couldn’t have Cas be in danger, he had to take the attention away from him, had to make his dad happy for a while by getting himself a girlfriend. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t like Anna.

“What’s going on with you Dean?” She asked, and he could hear the irritation in her voice. “Why did you just run off? I thought…” She trailed off, almost embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry.” He said honestly. “I just… I freaked out.”

“You freaked out? Come on, you expect me to believe that? I thought it was what you wanted! And it wouldn’t have been your first -”

“-No, I know.” He stopped her before she could continue. “Look, I get panic attacks, ok?” He explained, taking a deep breath and slowing to a stop. “I’ve always had them. And I just, I had a really bad one. I got spooked, Anna. I got scared. Because what if I didn’t do it right? What if I wasn’t good enough? The thing is…” He trailed off. 

There was sympathy in her eyes now, and he was close to getting her forgiveness, he could see. He turned into her and took her hands in his own, smiling at how warm her fingers felt between his. They were small and felt nothing like Castiel’s did, which was probably a good thing. 

“Yes?” She prompted, her lips curled into a smile.

“I’m a bit messed up.” He admitted. “But I like you.”  

“Messed up or not, Dean, I like you too.” She said quietly, that smile firmly across her face. She leant slowly in, and he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

“I thought you were going to tell me that kissing Castiel turned you gay.” She grinned when they broke apart, and his heart skipped for a moment until he realised she was joking. He laughed, as convincingly as he could. “Did I go too fast?” She asked softly. 

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly. She had pulled on his hand now, and they were walking again to some unknown destination. “Maybe. I mean I wanted it, it just freaked me out.” 

With a nod of her head she tugged his hand, and they snuck through a gap in the bushes, coming out into a large meadow. She led him forwards, before taking a sharp turn down a hidden path, and pulled him into an old shed at the end. “It’s my parent’s.” She explained. “But I come here all the time with friends.” The evidence of her words was all over the floor, there were empty beer cans and chip packets, and the old couch at the back had a huge carpet thrown over it. She sat, and gestured for him to do the same. 

He was still looking around when she took his face in her hands, when she leant in and pressed her mouth onto his. It felt nice, being able to share this with her. It felt even nicer, when she licked into his mouth and let out a little moan when he grabbed back at her. He could do this, he realised. She watched him carefully as she let her hands trail down to his jeans, as she palmed his cock through the tough fabric. He eyed her back, watched the arousal in her eyes and the smirk on her lips. She didn’t make a move for his shirt, and he was thankful for the cool chill of dusk. 

“Stop me if you need to.” She said seriously, as she went for the button and the zipper. 

Those memories were still there, bubbling under the surface. He still had half a thought that he might be on that plane, but the other, stronger half was taking him back to last night, to the experience he shared with Castiel. He moaned when he let her shuffle down his jeans and boxers and his cock bobbed free, because in his head it was Cas that took him in hand. He let himself feel the swell of untampered pleasure that erupted when she pumped her hand down his length, watched the smile drag up to her eyes when she saw what it was doing to him. 

He grinned when she licked her lips, when she climbed off of the couch and onto her knees in front of him, as she leant over his cock and took him deep into her mouth. It felt fucking good, when her lips dragged back up. It felt better than sex had. Maybe this time it would be different, maybe because he liked Anna it would be the best thing he’d done yet. He tried not to notice how it still didn’t feel as good as last night had with Castiel. He was doing well, letting himself feel the present rather than panic over the past. It was all still there, but he could suppress it. Hopefully he’d put the worst behind him, for now at least. 

When he was forced to let a groan escape he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed back, and she pulled off with a pop and a wicked smile. He stood then, and turned her around to lie back across the couch. She had another little mini skirt on, one that had showed off her round ass quite nicely on the walk down, and he shimmied the tight black fabric up to her stomach, revealing the red lace g-string she had on underneath, and sending even more of his blood south than before. He was willing to try anything, and with just his teeth he grabbed the elastic of her panties, and yanked down, dragging them away. 

Before he could think too much about it he spread her legs while she watched eagerly, and he let his tongue dart out, just grazing her clit while she gasped. Encouraged by her reaction, he continued his assault, occasionally dipping down to dart inside of her. Her cheeks had gone pink, and she was starting to squirm by the time she pushed him away. With a pointed look, she told him she was ready, and he fumbled in his jeans for his wallet, pulling out a condom which he swiftly pulled on before he lined up at her entrance. She nodded, and he pressed inside, feeling a hundred times better about this than he had with Cassie, and letting the warmth surround him as pleasure filled his heart. 

 _This_. He thought. _This is what it was meant to be like._  

He thrusted a few times before she pulled away, letting his cock drop out. He gazed at her curiously, but she pushed on his back until he was lying down flat, and she straddled him, lining herself up and plunging back down before she started to ride him. He wondered if all his Christmases had come at once, the sight before him was mouthwatering. He thought briefly that he’d have preferred it if she’d been naked, but the cold would have made it difficult for them both. 

Maybe he had just been going a bit crazy, these last few weeks. He was certainly enjoying this, definitely turned on and aroused and ready to spill his load inside of this girl who was lovely and kind and really fucking sexy. Maybe he wasn’t gay after all. Maybe he really had just needed Castiel’s help to get past his mental barriers. Maybe it wasn’t feelings after all. He wasn’t sure if she’d changed her angle or speed or if it was thinking about Cas that did it, but suddenly he found himself close to coming, and she seemed to sense it, because she let her own hand dip between her legs and brought herself the rest of the way while he watched. And fuck if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen a girl do, and that was that. He arched his back while he came, his mouth hanging open with the sensations that ripped through him, and he felt her tighten around him as her own body rocked through the orgasm, and he felt so fucking good about it, so pleased and relieved that there wasn’t anything wrong with him after all. 

It took a while to get his breath back, and she was still sat on his cock, pink cheeked and breathless too. He almost thought he loved her, when he looked back up, because he was so jubilant right now. So happy to believe that all of that confusion had just been in his head. Except, he realised, he still felt kinda weird when he thought about Cas. 

So what, he realised. So what if he liked his friend too? Because he liked this girl right now and she was good for him, what he needed. Plus she’d done a fantastic job at getting him over his fear and he would have been quite happy to fuck her again had she asked. Right now, she was his answer to everything. 

“Anna.” He choked, when he had just about had enough breath to do so. She didn’t respond, just looked at him with those pretty brown eyes. “I want you. I want to do that again. Please… Would you…” Oh god, he sucked at this. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

She just smiled, and nodded while she leant back down to kiss him. 

 

*

 

There was a new spring his step when he arrived back at his house. He’d all but forgotten about the state he’d been in when he left, now that he had something else to focus on. He climbed up the stairs, happier once he’d noticed that John’s car was gone and he was out, but before he could round the corner into his room he peered into Sam’s, eyes widening in surprise when he saw his best friend sitting there with his brother, tapping furiously on the controller of the Playstation. 

“Hey!” Sam looked up briefly from the TV. He had a wide smile on his lips and there was a smug little light in his eyes that told Dean he was winning, that and the fact that Cas was wearing a pout and a frown and chewing his lip like he did when he was frustrated. That was just one of the things he loved about Castiel, his stupidly expressive features. Dean smiled, although his mind was going wild. He didn’t like that they were talking between themselves. What if Cas asked him why they always fought? The truth was that they never fought. Never. Not once. They bickered, sure, like any siblings did. But they’d never raised a fist at each other. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked his friend curiously. Cas just shrugged, dropping the controller irritably. 

“Losing.” He answered, but there was a smile behind his eyes that suggested he didn’t actually mind. Without asking permission, Cas stood, and waved goodbye to Sam as he walked over into Dean’s room. Dean watched him go, shrugged at his younger brother who just laughed at his confusion, until he’d chased after him. 

“How was your dad?” Cas was waiting on his bed, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, looking entirely like he belonged. As Dean watched him, he realised he’d been too quick to discount his feelings as confusion. There was definitely more to it. A lot more. When Cas looked over and those frustratingly beautiful eyes looked into his and drew a smile out of nowhere, he knew that he was in deeper than he was willing to admit. 

“He was fine.” Dean lied. He’d already seen Castiel looking at his hand, but for once he hadn’t bothered to ask what had happened. 

“Where have you been?”

He let his smile morph into a wide grin, crossing over to the bed to lie on his back next to his friend. “With Anna.” He said quietly. He’d been almost dreading telling his friend, because of how weird things were between them. It felt odd, and they both knew that it was because he was running away from their problems and burying instead into something else. He was good at that, deflection. 

“How did it go?” Castiel asked after a pause, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew damn well what Dean was doing, that he was hiding yet again from whatever was really going on with him. But actually, this time, maybe that was for the best. Sure, he loved him, and he knew that as soon as Dean confirmed that he’d just spent his afternoon fucking a girl he’d almost beat to the chase, it would hurt like anything. But even if Dean did have even the remotest of feelings for him, he wasn’t ready for anything more than they’d had. He didn’t want the world knowing his secret just yet. He just wanted things to be normal for a while longer. 

“Very well.” Dean grinned, and yep, that hurt. Cas smiled back despite the pain in his heart. 

“So are you together, now?” He asked. 

“Yeah. I think so, she didn’t answer but she nodded so I guess… and after what we’d just done…” Dean smiled, telling his friend in so many words how his day had panned out. 

“So last night did the trick then?” Castiel stated, knowing damn well that Dean wouldn’t appreciate the reminder but feeling a little bit like he wanted some attention and recognition. It was just the jealousy talking, if he was honest. 

Dean felt suddenly uncomfortable, and wondered why Cas had dropped that little comment in there. Perhaps he was feeling a bit awkward. He surely couldn’t be jealous, so that must be it. “Cas.” He whispered, rolling onto his side to face his friend. Cas looked back at him with a curious smile on his lips. “I know last night was really weird, and I’m sorry I put you in that position. But thank you, seriously.” 

He let his lips curl into a genuine smile as his hand reached out to take Castiel’s. Cas softened as he spoke, and his friend looked almost upset when he rolled into him too. “I could hardly say no.” Cas pointed out, and Dean felt immediately guilty.

“Sorry.” He apologised, but Cas was rolling his eyes and smiling. 

“It’s ok.” He whispered, and suddenly his arms had come up to wrap around Dean without either of their permission. His mouth too, was working of its own accord. “Don’t take this the wrong way.” He could hear himself saying. “But you know I love you, right?”  

Dean grinned, where his cheek was pressed into Castiel’s shoulder. He tightened his arm around his friend and let himself just feel how he felt against him. He knew Cas was just talking platonically, and he returned the sentiment to the bottom of his heart, but he pressed a kiss into his cheek all the same. “I love you too, Cas.” 

His cheeks were pink when he pulled away, and Cas hadn’t ever looked more beautiful than in that moment. Not that he'd been much in the habit of describing his best friend as beautiful until recently. After a few moments of just staring into each other’s eyes like the love struck idiots they actually were, Cas dropped his gaze, and his expression changed to one of horror. “Dean.” He said with urgency. “Your arm.” 

As Dean looked down Castiel propped himself up on his elbows and leaned down to examine his right wrist, where a linear, deep burn had marked the flesh. Dean looked down at it with wide eyes, he hadn’t even noticed it until now. It hadn’t been hurting like his hand did, or his head. That had been throbbing too for the past couple of hours. But when Cas touched the surrounding area it stung like anything, and he winced, pulling back slightly and alarming his friend. 

“That looks awful.” Cas exclaimed, looking at the swollen, red wound that had already erupted in blisters. “What the hell did you do?” 

“Caught it on the stove.” Dean said quickly, thinking on his feet. He might well have done, but he couldn’t remember. It looked horrible, and Dean wasn’t usually squeamish, he was used to seeing his own blood and wounds. “It really hurts.” 

“I’ll bet.” Cas sighed. He rolled his eyes. “You can’t just leave it like this.” He complained. He stood and nodded toward the bathroom. “Here, come on.” 

While Dean had reluctantly followed him in and sat down on the toilet lid, Cas had searched the cupboards for a first aid kit. He dragged out some antiseptic lotion and massaged it into his arm while his patient complained and bit his lip from the pain, and when he was done, pulled out a bandage and wrapped his arm up carefully. 

“You really are the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” Castiel sighed when he’d finished, and for a brief second Dean considered telling the truth, breaking down onto his friend’s waiting shoulder and asking for help and an out, because he hated living like this, hated the pain he was in on a day to day basis, hated living in fear. But he held strong, just because. He held strong because he had to see it through, just for these two more years until he could get out and bring his brother and get away and just _be_. And maybe it was a sign that Anna wasn’t in his dream of the future. But maybe not. He held his pain in because it wouldn’t be as simple as _I need help_. Because he’d never see his friend again if he gave in, would he? 


	8. "I'm not going anywhere."

A long while had passed since he’d first asked Anna to be his girlfriend, they’d celebrated a one year anniversary since that day. It had been fifteen months, now. His pinky finger had never really looked the same, either, (he still didn’t know what had happened to it, but he figured something had crushed it). He should probably be feeling pretty great about life, considering his girlfriend was one of the coolest girls in school (head cheerleader, anyone?) and she could have been dating the quarterback if she’d wanted, and yet she’d chosen him. Their sex life was great, he was getting laid at least twice a week after school and she had never had an issue taking control in that sense. She’d blown him in the bathrooms a few times, too. But Anna wasn’t the problem, really. _He_ was.

He was still stuck in that cycle. Still unable to break out of the self destructive habits that had landed him in this mess in the first place. But he’d not been alone. Castiel had been just as bad. Since he’d been with Anna, whether it be through time or respect or the even more likely excuse that they just couldn’t deal with how they were feeling, the two boys had grown apart. It had been a self preservation thing, at first. They hadn’t abandoned each other completely, they were still friends, and they still spent time together after school when they could, but in school they were relative strangers, and Dean was beginning to worry that he’d made a huge mistake. 

A couple of months before, Castiel had started dating Meg. The same Meg who had been crushing on him since forever ago, the same Meg who he’d had up against a wall at her party that night last year. The same Meg who Dean now had an unhealthy dislike for. He knew it was petty, being jealous of her. He knew that he couldn’t ever have Castiel in the way that she did, but somehow he knew that she wouldn’t ever mean to him what he did. That Cas wouldn’t ever mean to her what he meant to him, because there’s no way he ever could. He still felt so possessive over him, and yet he knew he was just being an ass. He knew he was with Anna and Cas had every right to date whoever he liked, but it still sat bitterly in his stomach. Like she was stepping on his toes. His toes wouldn’t ever be given the chance. 

His mood had been weird all day, and Anna knew instantly that something was up. She might not know him as well as she thought she did, didn’t quite know him as inside out as Castiel did, either, but she knew him well enough. Knew that he was acting weird because something was wrong. They were sat together in the cafeteria, eating lunch, on a table with Katie and a few of their other friends. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of him today. He’d done something a bit different with his hair, and it suited him. 

One of the other kids had said something funny. It must have been Benny, because he was looking pleased with himself. The girls were laughing and Katie was giving him a look that said, _I want you_ , and Dean knew as they all did that they were sleeping together on the down low. But he also knew, because Benny had told him, that he was also sleeping with Ruby, too. He’d told Anna, and naturally, everyone but Katie knew now. He wondered sometimes if Anna _was_ actually as faithful as she said she was. Being around that group was torture when you had zero self esteem. As if reading his mind, Anna shot him a look, and he smiled even though he was feeling sad. 

“Go and talk to him.” She said quietly, leaning into his shoulder, and he eyed her curiously. “Castiel. You keep staring at him. If you want to talk to him then get on with it. Go on, he’s your friend.” 

Sometimes, she was worth her weight in gold. He nodded as he stood, leaving his half eaten apple behind as he strolled through the cafeteria, trying to look casual but probably coming across awkward as hell. Meg looked up suspiciously as he approached them, a dirty look that made him question what they said about him nowadays, but the smile that Cas gave him when he caught his eye made it all worth it. His eyes lit up with it, and suddenly Dean was drowning in him. These emotions came out of nowhere, all the pent up feelings he’d squashed down inside, the love and hurt and pain, all bubbling up and trying to escape at once. He had no idea what to say now that he was here, now that he was trying to talk to him, and before he could even open his mouth, before he could formulate a single word he realised that his lungs had turned iron, that they’d stopped moving and he’d stopped breathing altogether. He had more and more panic attacks nowadays. He knew that it coincided with John’s abuse. Initially, when he’d learned about Anna, John had been pleased, and the number of incidents decreased significantly, but in time, as Dean’s mood had darkened, so had his father’s. 

With a tilt of his head, Cas questioned him, read the panic in his expression and the fear in his eyes and without a word he stood, making an apologetic face at his girlfriend as he led his best friend in the world out of the cafeteria, half supporting his weight by the time they’d reached the doors at the back. Dean was all but slumped on him when they exited into the corridor. He looked around frantically, and pulled him into a handicapped toilet nearby, slamming the door and locking it closed. 

“Hey.” He whispered, his hands going up to Dean’s cheeks. “Hey, it’s just me. Breathe, Dean. Come on. Breathe.” He had already started exaggerating his breathing, but his friend had broken down crying instead of recovering, and he’d dropped his head onto his shoulder and was pulling him impossibly close, holding him tight. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas. I’m so fucking sorry.” Dean was saying, and Cas wondered if he’d done something bad, if he was gunna get picked on or beaten up by the popular kids. 

“What are you apologising for?” Castiel asked nervously, pulling back with his hands on Dean’s face, keeping their gazes together.

“For us.” Dean sobbed. “For not being there. I miss you, Cas. I miss you so fucking much.” 

“What?” Cas asked, confused. He wasn’t an idiot, he was well aware that they weren’t as close at the moment as they had been, but he preferred to play it down. In truth, he’d been willing to let Dean slip away, to keep him at arm’s length, because watching him with Anna was so damn hard. Perhaps absence would make the heart grow fonder, he’d hoped in vain. “I’m still here.” He whispered, pulling his friend in tight. “You haven’t lost me, Dean.” 

“Maybe not yet.” Dean said, and he sounded heartbroken. His voice was barely a whimper. He clutched back at his friend with a desperate need, wondering how he’d gone so long without holding him. He knew exactly how long it had been since Castiel had allowed him to clutch him so tightly. They hadn’t done this since the day he and Anna became an item.  

"Hey... come on. Dean, Jesus you're scaring me." Castiel said quietly, pulling their foreheads together and staring back at him like he was his whole world. _Because_ he was his whole world. He wanted to kiss him, badly. Wanted to take his pain away and for a moment just be what he was supposed to be and do what he was made to do. But he couldn't be sure that was how Dean was feeling and he couldn't be sure that it wouldn't make everything worse. In fact, he thought he could probably be sure that it _would_ make everything worse. 

"I am scared Cas." Dean complained. "Scared that I've fucked this up irreparably." 

"What? You haven't at all." Cas reassured his friend, pressing a kiss to his temple against his better judgement. 

"We don't see each other any more." 

"What are you talking about? We see each other every day at school and maybe once a week at home." He knew he was just being pedantic. It had started out fairly normally, when Dean and Anna had first got together, but as time went on Cas had slipped through the net, backed away slowly. They’d probably only seen each other once a week through the summer when usually they’d have spent every damn day together. He _knew_ they didn't see each other as much and he knew what Dean was getting at but he needed to hear him say it. 

"It used to be every day though. Every spare second. I want it back Cas. I want you back."

And there it was. Cas felt his heart swell with hope and love but he tried not to get too excited, not to get his hopes too high. Dean had only said he missed him. He hadn't said he wanted more because he probably didn't. He still felt so weird about him, about their relationship. He loved him. Completely and utterly. And maybe it would be worth coming out if it meant he got to be with him, but Dean seemed so confused and tense about the subject of sexuality that he didn't dare risk it. He'd never had the guts to tell him the truth, and he was scared himself of what everyone else might say. He'd even tried dating Meg in a weak ass attempt at convincing himself and everyone else that he was straight. 

"I'm not going anywhere." Cas whispered, and when Dean nuzzled his face into his neck and left a kiss on his skin he couldn't help but smile. "Why don't we go back to mine?" He chanced. "My mom's away." 

Skipping school was definitely worth it if he got to spend a whole afternoon, evening and night with Dean. He'd do anything for this, to have time to themselves without girls around. Sometimes he wished they were still sixteen and practicing kissing with each other. Maybe he could get away with pretending he still needed help. But they were almost eighteen now, both in relationships with girls that couldn't be more different from each other. 

Dean had jumped at the chance, had nodded and wiped his eyes and caught his breath as he looked up into his best friend’s face. And Castiel had just smiled at him, had run his thumb across his cheek before dropping his hand to his shoulder and leading him out through the halls and into the warm September air. 

The arm around Castiel’s middle stayed firmly put as they walked, and Cas found himself chatting comfortably away to his friend as they crossed the parking lot and climbed side by side into his car. As they turned through the physical corners of the road, it seemed like they turned a metaphorical corner in their friendship, and when Cas switched off the ignition on his mother’s driveway, Dean was beaming. 

They hadn’t been inside the house for long before Dean had wrapped his arms back around Castiel. He squeezed him tightly and held him close, trying to remember exactly how he felt against him because he never wanted to forget again. His heart was hurting, drastically painful where he was fighting off his confused emotions, trying desperately to sort through the feelings and come out with something painless. He hadn’t meant to break down. He hadn’t meant to smash through the walls he’d built up around his feelings for Castiel but they’d demanded an out and he hadn’t been able to stop himself. His blood pumped for him. 

He knew that by now Cas probably thought he was completely unstable, that he would probably be adding a therapist to speed dial in case of emergency. He knew he’d been acting crazy but how could he help himself when he _was_ crazy? When he had been driven crazy by being in love with his best fucking friend for so long without doing anything about it. He went crazy the moment he started letting him slip away. He could seal the deal now with a kiss, and Cas would probably just get him sectioned. 

When Cas let his arms slip down to rest his hands on Dean’s waist he smiled, and Dean was surprised. He looked less alarmed by his erratic and ridiculous behaviour than he should have. Perhaps he was just that used to him by now. Castiel slowly let him go, and instead walked into the kitchen, where he rummaged in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. Dean’s eyes perked up in interest and he grinned, nodding when Cas took two glasses from the cupboard and poured them one each. 

“There’s more where that came from.” Castiel reassured him as he took a sip of the clear, yellow-green liquid. It wasn’t bad, as wine went. 

For the rest of the afternoon, they drank. They drank and they laughed and shared stories about their recent lives and their girlfriends and Dean told him all of the popular clique’s little secrets and explained how ridiculous they all were. They were always touching, somehow. Whether it was Dean’s arm around Cas or Cas’s arm around Dean or their hands holding or just leaning generally too close together they were always in contact, and it felt just like it was meant to be. 

At some point it had gone dark outside, and they’d switched on the lights. At some point they’d given up on the couch because they couldn’t comfortably lie next to each other now they were even bigger, so they’d laid on the carpet instead. They were still here, side by side on the floor, fingers entwined, chatting away. 

“So how are things with Meg, in general?” Dean asked, still smiling. He hadn’t smiled this much in a year. 

“Uh, good, I guess?” Castiel shrugged. Things with Meg were as good as could be, considering she didn’t have a dick and he wasn’t attracted to her in the slightest. 

“Have you… you know, have you slept with her yet?” Dean asked. He’d been wanting to ask all day, but he’d bided his time for the right moment. He didn’t know what he’d do if Cas said he had.

Looking suddenly embarrassed, Cas looked away. Of course he hadn’t. How could he have fucked her? He’d tried once, twice, three times, tried to want it, to will it to happen, but at every last moment he’d chickened out and made her come instead with his fingers. He _was_ good at that, at lasting it out. Because obviously he wasn’t into it in the least. He didn’t know if he should tell Dean that, if he should be honest and admit that she’d never made him come. That even when he thought about his best friend when his cock was in her mouth it wasn’t enough. Ok, he definitely wasn’t going to share that last bit. Any of that information, in fact. Things were weird enough without admitting that he’d had no trouble coming all over his friend but give him a girl and he holds back like a bitch. 

“No.” He said quietly, cheeks pink. 

“How come?” Dean asked curiously, and he looked genuinely interested. There had never been a better chance than this, and there might never be again. It should be so easy, shouldn’t it, just to tell him the truth? To come out with it and just say with honesty, _Dean, I think I’m gay._  

“I don’t know.” Castiel said instead. He was cursing himself mentally, because he knew that that moment right there, that had been his get out of jail free card. That might have solved all of his problems. And yet, he was worried, it surely could have created new ones. 

“You don’t know? What do you mean?” Dean probed. “Is it her? Won’t she let you? I’d have said she was gagging for it.” 

And wasn’t that a nice way to describe it. Castiel had never been less turned on, than picturing Meg begging him for sex. Jesus, what was he doing with her? He had to end it, and soon. From somewhere deep within, Castiel plucked up some courage. Maybe he _would_ own up to the truth. “No, I don’t think it’s her. It’s me.” 

“What do you mean, it’s you?” Dean chanced. Castiel just shrugged, his hands letting go of Dean’s and coming up to hide his face. When his friend said nothing, Dean continued. “Are you ok, Cas?” 

“I’m fine.” Cas assured him. But no, he was still too chicken to say anything. “I guess I’m just being a coward.” 

“It’s just sex, Cas. You don’t need to be scared of it, I promise you.”  Dean whispered, and he brought up his hands to pull Castiel’s away, looking him in the eye. “If I can do anything to help… you helped me last year, remember?” He wasn’t sure how much he was offering. 

Castiel snorted. “How could I forget?” Castiel had had enough wine that he was more than willing to repeat that particular experience. 

Dean grinned at the smile on Castiel’s lips. He was still in so deep, and he knew that if he went through with this, if he insisted on _helping_ Castiel like this, that this would change them, perhaps permanently. His sober brain was well aware that this was a terrible, terrible idea, but this drunk? It seemed like the only important thing in the world. It was a necessity, an inevitability. 

“Let me give you some pointers, at least?” He asked, and when Cas just watched him patiently he took it to be permission. He slid his hand up to Castiel’s neck, thumb stroking across his jugular, and Cas all but shivered at the touch, skin erupting in gooseflesh. 

“Girls go crazy when you touch their necks.” Dean whispered, and there was a deepness to his voice that Cas hadn’t heard before and that alone was making him hard. “Even crazier when you _kiss_ their necks.” 

Before he could evaluate what a bad idea this probably was, Dean’s lips had met his skin and pressed down, sucking and lightly nibbling at his flesh. Fuck, that was hot. He really wanted to leave a mark, to brand him as his own, but he thought better of it. He pulled back just enough to let out a hot breath over the damp skin and Cas breathed out raggedly underneath him. Apparently it wasn’t _just_ girls that went crazy for that. 

“Anna really likes it when I play with her ear.” He added, and that treacherous hand coursed upwards, landing just the gentlest tease of a touch on his earlobe, and trailing up across the cartilage. Castiel had had to shut his eyes, because he was really fucking turned on, and he knew that if he opened them and saw even the slightest hint of arousal in Dean he’d be unable not to act. He physically moaned, and loudly, when Dean’s lips captured his earlobe, when he chewed and breathed and moaned right back down on him. And when the other hand came to his cheek, Castiel knew he wasn’t getting out of this alive. 

“And they go mad if you refuse to kiss them.” Dean whispered. He brought his lips millimetres in front of Castiel’s and just hovered there. He was so close. All Cas would have to do is pucker up and they’d be kissing. He was so fucking screwed. His cock was aching already, straining for purchase against his boxers and sweatpants and Dean would only have to look down to see how much control he had over him. How Cas was a puppet and he was holding his strings. 

Dean just stared at him. Just stared. He looked into him like he was reading his soul and questioned him like he wasn’t sure why they weren’t connected already. As Cas looked back at him he wasn’t sure either. It took everything he had to push away, to look pointedly up at the ceiling for a moment while Dean sucked in a breath to his side. 

It was terrifying how much Dean had wanted that. It shook him to the core, that everything he’d had with Anna over the past year or more, none of it meant anything when it came to Castiel. Cas, who was his best friend. His light and soul and saviour. Cas who, apparently, was the love of his life. He felt a little guilty while he watched his friend looking away. He knew that he’d almost crossed another line, yet somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted his friend, true. But he also knew that at this moment in time his friend wanted him too, maybe even needed him. It didn’t have to be romantic. His friend obviously needed help in the bedroom department, and feelings aside, he could give him that. It wasn’t cheating if it was just to help his buddy, right?

“Cas.” He mumbled hurriedly. Dean rolled onto his side and his arm went out to reach up to his friend’s face. He knew from where he’d turned his massive erection was poking into Castiel’s hip but he couldn’t care less. Cas just looked surprised that he was hard in the first place. He could see that Cas was hard too. He was tenting those loose pants. “Let me help you.” 

When Cas turned his head to look back at him his eyebrows were raised, almost a dare. Almost like he was asking for an excuse to knock him out, like he was pissed off and angry. But Dean could see that below it all he was just hurt. 

He didn’t know what possessed him to continue, whether it was the alcohol in his bloodstream or his unwavering affections, but even though Cas looked up at him with a face like thunder Dean climbed on top of him, straddling his legs as he bent his face above his friend’s. Castiel was breathing heavily when he was low enough to hear, still looking half hurt and half angry, but he also looked incredibly aroused. Dean half expected to be punched at any given moment. 

“I know we did some shit last year and things got weird.” Dean whispered. “But it doesn’t have to be weird. Girls help each other out all the time. Anna and Katie are always getting it on, as practice. I’ve seen them do it.” He said quietly. He didn’t point out the difference of course, that neither Anna or Katie were in love with each other. But it wasn’t a lie either, they had treated him to a show or two over the year. “Let me help.”

Suddenly the walls broke, and Cas was free. He pushed up as far as he could to meet Dean halfway up and let himself relax slowly back down when those lips, those fucking lips, played against his own. Dean broke inside of him hurriedly and that electric feeling he’d remembered was still there, maybe even stronger now, and oh god he was so fucking hard. So fucking needy. Cas bucked his hips up while Dean ground back down on top of him and all he could think was that he wanted to be inside him, wanted his dick to be deep inside his friend’s ass and that was the only way he’d ever feel complete. It was literally fucking filthy how Dean was grinding against him and how he let out a growl when he rolled down.

With a moan of his own, Cas pushed back up, and Dean spread his legs out behind his friend so that he was sat on his lap and as they pulled each other closer their bodies rubbed together, some reward but not enough. Cas was angry now, angry with pent up frustration and jealousy and he was ready to bring Dean apart. Because even though this was supposed to be about him he wasn’t handing over the reins that easy. His hands coursed through Dean’s hair and pulled him impossibly close, and Dean was full on groaning into his mouth and shuffling his ass around on his cock to try and get more friction and purchase and the whole thing was just fucking delicious. 

“Fuck!” Dean moaned, because that’s the only word he could remember when Cas pressed a firm hand into his lap. He wasn’t as stupid as he looked, it was obvious Castiel didn’t really need the practice, but the excuse was placating his conscience. As Cas rubbed at his boner he saw stars, and he was getting embarrassingly close to coming in his pants because the whole thing had just completely fried his brain. 

And Castiel could see it. Could see how the blood was rushing to his friend’s cheeks and how his eyes were rolling back in his sockets already. Could see that he owned his every atom and he knew that if he kept it up he’d win the fight. That he’d prove his hold on him and settle his doubts for the rest of his days. He kept rubbing, roughly dragging on the hard length through the thick fabric sweatpants despite the warnings that were dripping from Dean’s tongue, because he wanted to own him, wanted to make him come apart when he wasn’t ready just to prove that he could. If he could do this now, he’d know that Dean would be his at heart for all eternity. 

“Cas, don’t… Cas, stop… Cas… fuck. No…. Cas.” Dean was all but drooling, his words interrupted by constant assaults to his mouth and it was all he could do to kiss back and try and hold on to his dignity, but Castiel of course had other ideas, was stroking him harder and faster and firmer through his pants and he had no fucking chance. Had nothing to hold on to. 

Dean came, hard. He fucking cried out as the mess spilled out into his pants and Castiel’s mouth went instead to his neck and his ear, the little shit using his own tricks against him. He was shivering out his release around him while Cas continued to rub and _Jesus_ it felt so fucking good but he was mortified at the same time that he couldn’t hold on, his toes were curled and numb like a fucking girl. He’d only realised that his hands had dug into Castiel’s sides as he was coming down, and he’d drawn blood with his fingernails. He couldn’t remember it ever feeling so good with Anna. 

Even though he was done, like completely fucking done, Cas continued to gently rub at his cock, this shit-eating grin on his face like he was really fucking pleased with himself. Dean kept focusing on the feeling of his own warm come being rubbed back into himself as his over-stimulated cock twitched and strained, and when he looked down and saw how soaked through his pants were from the outside he shook his head irritably, and lifted up to rip them off, not caring at all that he was left naked from the waist down and still straddling his best friend. 

“Very funny.” He whispered, when Cas’s hand went back to his damp, spent dick and continued to stroke it gently. If he kept that up, he’d be hard again in a few minutes. He could still feel Cas’s erection under his ass. He wanted to put it up there, if he was honest. Wanted to sit on him, take his whole length inside. He didn’t know where that was coming from, but the thought wasn’t as scary as it should have been. 

“Your fucking turn.” Dean instructed, and he pushed gently on Castiel’s chest, lying him back against the floor. His hands went next to his waistband, and tugged on the elastic, pulling his pants and boxers down and off when Cas lifted his ass up just enough. Dean watched that beautiful cock bob free and licked his lips. He wasn’t giving up without a fight, he had more tricks up his sleeve yet. Castiel had far from won this round.

He bent over his friend, licking slowly and peacefully into his mouth for a few seconds while Cas bucked his hips up, poking his cock up against Dean’s and sending blood back into it, encouraging it back to half mast. Dean groaned at the sensation, because he was not going to lose again. He shuffled his knees, slipping back down to Castiel’s legs, and bent his mouth over his dick, hovering for a few seconds while Castiel watched him with wide, surprised eyes, and groaned when he took in as much as he could. He didn’t, of course, have any experience in giving blow jobs. The only things he knew to do were the things that Anna did to get him off. So he mimicked her, going down as deep as he could and applying pressure through his teeth as he sucked back up. He pressed his tongue down into the slit at the top and smiled at the taste of precome on the top. It tasted salty and weird, but he didn’t dislike it. 

A few moments later Cas had pushed him away, and Dean looked up in surprise, half expecting his friend to be glaring angrily at him, to have realised finally what they were doing and how wrong and weird it was. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was grinning wickedly, looking at him like he had a trump card hidden in his back pocket. Dean furrowed his brow, and he didn’t know how Cas did it, but before he knew it he was on his side, and Cas’s mouth was around his cock too, and once again he was fucking moaning and harder than ever, because he couldn’t control himself for shit around this god of a boy. 

How was Cas so fucking good at this? The answer, of course, although he couldn’t have known at the time, was that his friend watched his fair share of gay porn. And he obviously didn’t need the practice or the pointers because he’d learned enough on his own. 

Castiel’s mouth was just fucking heaven, and every time he did that thing where he fit all of him in and sucked, Dean was sure he was going to explode. Again. How was that even possible? He just kept trying, trying to suck Cas harder, trying to apply more pressure and bob his head quicker, because Cas was enjoying it, for sure. He was moaning around his dick like a bitch but it only served to make him more horny because the vibrations against him were fantastic. 

 _Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god._ Cas was getting close. So fucking close. He was determined to get Dean off first, absolutely determined to prove he could. But the feel of Dean’s swollen lips around his head was so unbelievable, and he was going to spill out without a moment’s notice. He shouldn’t have worried, though, because as he fought off a wave his tongue lapped out at Dean and he felt the other boy start to tremble, and that pressure built up in him before he suddenly gave out and the cock in his mouth was throbbing as Dean succumbed again, as he lapsed back into the white fire and cried out. 

Cas licked him clean, licked every fucking drop of come out of him and _swallowed_ it all down. It was more perfect than he could have imagined, that sensation of coming in his face. Anna had always pulled off before he could finish, caught his load in a tissue or let him loose against a wall. It was hotter having someone lick him clean than he’d realised it would be, and Cas was enjoying the taste, too. He pulled again on Cas’s ass and Cas fucked back into his face, letting loose an unbelievable growl that was unbearably sexy, and he was reassured that he hadn’t lost too much time when he’d spasmed with his own release. He was just furious that he’d come twice in the time it’d taken him to get Cas to come at all. He used it, used that anger, used that frustration and love and he pumped down quicker and harder and before he knew it Cas was choking too, was calling out his name, _his_ fucking name, as he spilled down his throat. Dean continued to suck him, continued his up and down and pressing firm until Cas actually pulled him off, but he resisted, and returned his favour, licking him clean too with his rebellious tongue while his best friend twitched. 

For a long moment, they lay on their backs, looking up at the ceiling as they caught their breath. But he didn’t want it to get weird. He couldn’t bear the thought that Cas might decide enough was enough and stop him from doing any more, so he flipped himself up the other way, and leant up to bring their mouths back together, licking into his best friend’s mouth in an attempt to show him what he was too scared to say.  

Castiel kissed back lazily, a smile on his lips as he let his hands trickle through Dean’s hair and down his shoulders. He was so done. Done with hiding who he was, done with pretending that the boy he’d just blown wasn’t his whole life and world. Done with pretending he didn’t want to spend every waking minute with him. He felt guilty, sure. He knew that there was no way you could consider that to be _practice._ Maybe it was for Dean, who knew? But there’s no way he was getting away with that, and the sooner he accepted that, the better. He just had to break up with Meg first. 

The next problem, though, would be working out what to do about their friendship. When he was done with kissing, Dean pulled back, letting his eyes flick open so he could stare into Castiel’s. Dean was irretrievably in love with the other boy. And yet, it wasn’t as simple as that, was it? How in hell was he going to manage it? Because he couldn’t be _with_ Castiel without his dad finding out, (and that simply wasn’t an option), and yet he didn’t think he could survive being _without_ Castiel either. But then, there was only one more year until Cas would go off to college, or drama school if he made the cut (which he was sure to). Maybe if they just kept… practicing… until then? Maybe next year, then, he could tell him that how he felt was real? But then what if he didn’t feel the same? Cas did have a girlfriend, after all. 

He had a girlfriend too, for that matter. Shit. Neither of them were about to win boyfriend of the month. 

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice seemed smaller, quieter now that he’d come down from his high. “Stop overthinking.” He was smiling at him, and Dean felt reassured that he hadn’t fucked up their relationship at least. 

“Sorry. You’re right. It was just practice.” Dean whispered, and if Castiel’s face fell a little he didn’t notice. “I was just thinking about Anna.” 

“Yeah.” Cas sighed. That definitely counted as cheating, no matter what Dean thought. Castiel wasn’t so insecure as to realise that there was some feeling behind it. He just didn’t know if it was enough. Even if Dean was gunna continue telling himself it was _just practice._ Cas couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised when Dean rolled back toward him and kissed him again, when he smiled as he pulled away a little. 

“We should keep practicing.” Dean said quietly, and Castiel felt his stomach clench, but he kissed him again just to prove that he still could. “We could get really good.” 

“We’re pretty good already, aren’t we?” Cas grinned, although his heart was racing. What the hell was Dean playing at? Telling him he wanted more of this without actually admitting it, without actually talking about it. Did this mean he had a chance? Or was Dean just hoping he’d play his bit on the side? It sat sour in his stomach, the thought of doing this if they weren’t going to do anything about their girlfriend problems, but it would save him from having to come out just yet and might just keep him sane (but it might just drive him crazy, too). Sure, he wanted Dean, all to his fucking self, but he wasn’t sure he wanted everyone else to know he was gay, not yet. Maybe this _was_ a way out. He’d end things with Meg, at least. Then he’d see. But like he’d said earlier, he was just a puppet on a string when it came to Dean Winchester. 

“We’re fucking good.” Dean smiled, but somehow he got his tongue back down Cas’s throat. 


	9. "I'm so fucking done."

“This even-handed justice, commends th’ingredience of our poisoned chalice to our own lips. He’s here in double trust: first, as I am his kinsman and his subject, strong both against the deed; then, as his host, who should against his murderer shut the door, not bear the knife myself”

 _Jesus. He’s really good._ Dean stared up at the stage with an almost surprised expression. He knew Castiel had always loved acting, wanted to be in Hollywood someday, but he’d never actually realised just _how_ talented his friend actually was. As he watched him stood up there as Macbeth, he almost believed him. Almost believed that his friend wasn’t there but the thane of Cawdor was. And ok, yes, he was completely biased because he was head over heels in love with the guy but he was genuinely great. He’d caught Evelyn’s eye earlier from where he was sat with Anna and her friends and she’d smiled at him because she’d been thinking the same thing. She was proud as punch, and she had every damned right to be. 

He’d like a bit of justice, he thought bitterly, as he mulled over Castiel’s soliloquy. He’d like for his kinsman not to bear the knife. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and Anna shot him a smile. He knew she was surprised by how good Castiel was, too, although they weren’t exactly friends. 

The curtain called for the interval not long after, and they bunched around in a circle to chat while they waited for the second act. Dean had his arm loosely around Anna’s shoulder, but she wasn’t pressed into him so close as usual. Ever since the other week, when he’d done what he’d done with Cas, he’d been off with her, and she hadn’t been stupid enough to not pick up on it, she just didn’t know what was going on with him. 

He wished he had the balls to just tell her there was someone else, if he was honest. He wished he could just break it off without her asking questions but he knew her well enough to know that was wishful thinking. He almost hoped she’d been cheating on him, like all of her friends cheated on their boyfriends and girlfriends, because it would take some of his guilt away. Because he did feel guilty, that he was spending all of his time with Cas again now, that sometimes in the dark of night he'd kiss him or blow him, all in the name of _practice_. He knew it was a pathetic excuse he was hiding behind. But Cas was hiding too, and he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Cas was like his fucking life force and who knows what might happen if it was cut off. 

It wasn’t like he could stop hiding, either. God knows he wanted to. But it literally was a life or death thing, and he was hanging on by a thread. Every time John saw him with Cas his eyes narrowed like he knew. Every time he brought Anna over he just shot Dean this glare that told him he wasn’t buying it any more. They were in very real danger. And he couldn’t even warn him. 

“This is so boring.” Benny was protesting, and Dean was suddenly bounced back to reality. “I’m fed up of watching angel boy float around in a dress like the faggot he is.” 

“What did you just say?” Dean said angrily, spitting out the words before he’d thought about them. His hands curled into fists and he tensed immeasurably. 

“Don’t be a cunt, Dean. I’m just messing.” 

“You realise he’s my best friend?” Dean all but spat, and Benny just rolled his eyes, lounging back in his chair like he couldn’t give two fucks. 

“You don’t need that prick. He’s a loser, anyway. You’ve got us now.” 

“I need him more than I need assholes like you.” He said fiercely, and Benny raised his eyebrows. 

“What did you call me?” 

“I said you’re an asshole.” Dean repeated, trying to remain calm. But when Benny climbed suddenly to his feet he was ready for him, he squared up to him as soon as he was standing. 

“Dean!” Anna was protesting at his side, tugging on his arm. “Jesus Christ. He’s just messing around.” 

“Is he?” He snapped suddenly, turning on her. “Because you're all just out to get everyone, aren’t you? Even each other.” He looked around at the group who looked back at him with raised eyebrows and pissed off faces. “Fucking hell you’re all cheating on each other, and you all know about it. You never have a good word to say about any of your friends, so why _are_ you friends?”

“Why are you being such a bitch?” Anna yelled angrily, and Dean didn’t care that they’d accrued quite an audience. Benny was still looking like he might hit him at any moment, but he couldn’t deal a punch worse than what he was used to from his father, so he gave him a look that said _bring it on._  

“Because I’m done, Anna. I’m so fucking done.” He said simply, as he let out a ragged, angry breath, and with a shrug of his shoulders he turned and walked away. 

He had no idea where he was walking to, hadn’t even realised he’d been followed until she called out his name. He spun around at her voice, let his lips lift in the involuntary smile she incited in him. Wrapped her in his arms when he was close. 

“Are you alright?” Evelyn asked him. He didn’t know how much she’d heard, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

“Yeah.” He breathed. He was, actually. It felt good knowing that he’d spoken up for himself, and Cas, for a change. It was poison, being in that clique day in and day out, when they did nothing but backstab and bitch. And it felt good being out of that relationship, even if she’d not been all bad. He had a sudden urge to see Castiel, and he gave Eve a squeeze, looking slightly down as he let her go. “I’ll come and sit with you, if you can save me a seat. I’m gunna just go speak to him a moment.” 

“Of course.” She smiled, and headed back to the hall. 

Dean had to take a second to get his bearings, figure out where he’d walked off to, but he traipsed back down the corridor when he’d figured it out, and knocked on the door that said ‘Backstage, Off Limits.’ 

The school’s drama teacher, Mrs Peverell, shot him an irritable look when he insisted he needed to speak to Castiel. She tried explaining that he was incredibly busy, but he was persistent, and eventually she agreed to let him have just five minutes. He found Cas amongst the hordes of cast members and backstage crew, and his friend raised his eyebrows when he saw him heading over. Dean threw his arms around the aspiring actor without a second thought, and when he buried his face into his neck Cas realised instantly that something was up. 

“What have you done, Dean? It’s terrible timing.” He whispered. 

“I’m fine, honestly. I’m good.” Dean reassured him, because they didn’t have time to talk now. But when Cas pulled back to question his eyes he wore a suspicious expression. “Just needed to see you.” Dean tried. 

“Come and help me change, then.” Cas said quietly, gesturing with a nod of his head for Dean to follow. He led him through to the changing cubicles where his next costume was hung up, and after checking that no one was looking, he pulled Dean behind the curtain with him. “What’s going on, seriously?” 

“It’s fine, Cas. It can wait ’til later.” Dean said again, but although Cas wasn’t buying it he really didn’t have the time to argue. He pulled his friend back into another hug, and felt his heart jump when Dean’s lips pressed against his cheek. “You’re incredible up there, you know.” 

“Uh… thanks?” Cas said with a smile, and if that hadn’t melted him then the kiss that Dean left on his lips next certainly did. It was just that, soft and slow. Not like the passionate make out sessions they shared in the night. Cas tilted his head to the side and eyed his friend curiously when they broke apart, and Dean just shrugged. 

“Just practicing.” He whispered under his breath. But there was a hint of a smile on those lips, and Cas raised an eyebrow, because they both knew the truth. 

When he got back up on stage, Castiel was buzzing. He felt strangely hopeful, as he looked down into the crowd. And his heart was bolstered when his eyes landed on Dean’s and he realised that he wasn’t sat with Anna any more, but his mother. Dean beamed back at him, and gave a light shrug shrugged. Castiel continued with his lines, continued smashing it because it came so ridiculously naturally to him. It’s what he was always meant to do, act. 

It took him a while to notice, but he did spot Anna amongst the crowd eventually. He couldn’t help it if his eyes narrowed a bit when he saw her with her lips around Benny’s, and he didn’t want to know where the hand he couldn’t see had ended up. 

 

*

 

Ok, so maybe he had admitted to himself already that the reason he kept going back to Castiel was because he enjoyed it so fucking much. Sue him. And yes, maybe his friend would have benefitted from the knowledge that he wasn’t just using his body because he could. Maybe Cas would have appreciated knowing that his feelings were far from platonic. But what could he do? At least it wasn’t cheating any more. Almost as soon as he’d split with Anna, Cas had dumped Meg, and Dean couldn’t help but hope the two were connected. They could do this, surely. They could sneak around for the next twelve months before they escaped, could hide away their feelings for just a while longer until they could safely embrace them, right? He just had to keep lying to Cas for long enough, that was all. 

But fuck, was that going to be difficult. 

He’d been a little confused, sure, when Castiel had led him to the back of the class today, instead of taking a seat somewhere in the middle like they usually did. He hadn’t paid much attention, as he’d dragged out his books and started trying to concentrate on Math. Although really, there was no way the algebra was going to stick in his mind. He did start paying attention, though, when Castiel’s hand found its way to his thigh. He was paying even more attention, when it snuck up his leg, and rested on the underside of his hip, dangerously close to the cock that was waking up and deciding it was playtime. 

Upon shooting a look to his friend, Dean realised how fucked he was. Castiel was just staring ahead, pen in his other hand, nodding along as the teacher was explaining whatever the hell he was explaining (the algebra was already out of the window), and acting as if nothing, literally nothing, was going on. Acting like his friend wasn’t getting a major boner just because he was touching his hip. Castiel was at his most dangerous when he was feeling confident. 

A few minutes later, and Cas was holding his dick through his jeans. The little shit. This was supposed to be just a nighttime deal, _just practice._ He was turning this into full on friends with benefits thing. But he couldn’t find it in him to complain, not when Cas squeezed… oh fuck. Just like that. He was so grateful that he’d worn black jeans today, because there was no way he was going to make it through a whole hour without coming all over himself if Cas was in that mood. And he certainly seemed to be in that mood. 

It was all that he could do to hold in the moans, as Cas began to stroke his length. It was all he could do not to writhe around and cry out and scream like he wanted to. He tried to turn his dick off, tried to think about not sexy things but how could he when his sex god best friend was jacking him off, _in class_ of all place? His hand sunk into Cas’s thigh as his friend applied more pressure and he was biting his lip to shreds, wrecking it so hard that he could taste blood already and he couldn’t help but squirm in his seat when Cas went for his zipper and pulled downwards. 

“Are you alright back there, Mr Winchester?” The teacher, Mr Coles, was eyeing him suspiciously. Several of the other students turned to look at him too, with raised eyebrows. He blushed, as if he wasn’t already red-faced, but forced himself to nod and tell him that sure, everything was fine, even though his best friend, his sexy fucking beyond gorgeous asshole best friend, didn’t even stop when he’d been caught out, just slowed his pace for long enough to let Dean spit his words out. 

As soon as the attention was away from him again, Cas sped right back up, still only touching him from outside his boxers, but somehow the friction the fabric gave him combined with their audience made it almost as tantalising as if it had been skin. And oh god, how was he ever supposed to hold on when Cas was so fucking evil? He was going to do it, wasn’t he? To come in his pants in front of all these people. He glanced over to Cas who had that cocky little smirk on his lips again, because it was his new favourite thing, apparently, asserting dominance over him, and perhaps, if he admitted it, it was his new favourite thing, when Cas wrecked him like this. 

He was nearly out of time, he knew. He was all but ready to explode and Cas was getting quicker and quicker because he could feel it from how he was from how he was tensing next to him. How he was managing to keep his breathing steady was beyond him, but he couldn’t let anyone see him come, he wouldn’t. He’d never live it down. He bent his head over the desk instead, picked up his pen and pretended to be taking notes, although the only the marks he left on the paper were frustrated scribbles. 

And then shit, it was happening. He’d turned his head naturally a little towards Cas and he could see the other boy watching him with dark eyes and a wicked smile as he let out his huge load and came all over himself. His friend watched as he drooled onto his book and Cas put his other hand on his shoulder to hold him still because he was shuddering a little uncontrollably with the complete pleasure. He was just grateful that no one noticed when he bit Cas’s hand as his dick spasmed. 

Great. Just fucking great. Sure, that had been incredible, as orgasms go, but now he had to spend the rest of the day with his damp cock surrounded by drying come. Wonderful. And it was only third period. His friend was still slowly pumping his dick, too, overstimulating him and making him shiver. He pulled himself back upright, not giving Castiel the satisfaction of meeting his eyes as he shuffled in his chair and winced at the sensation in his pants that was uncomfortably like he’d pissed himself. Castiel finally withdrew his hand then, but he had the cheek to wipe it on Dean’s jeans before he pulled it atop the desk. 

What a little shit. Dean thought to himself. He was really going to fucking know about it tonight. They hadn’t planned to spend the evening together, but it was definitely going to be happening now. He had to think of something special, some way of fucking him over to pay him back that wouldn’t leave him vulnerable to more embarrassment. Because, as it turns out, Cas was way better at holding back. He, however, was shit at it. 

He started trying to concentrate now. Even if he felt seriously uncomfortable every time he so much as moved because his cock had to peel off of the fabric of his boxers, he was going to actually learn something in this class. Or so he planned. He could have murdered his friend, when he finally looked at him again, because Cas was biting his lip, on fucking purpose, because he knew he looked hot when he did. And no. Just fucking no. He was not going to get hard again. But he was, of course, a teenager with the libido to match, and he dropped his head into his hands on the desk when his dick twitched again. 

Maybe he could turn the tables on this whole thing, then. Maybe payback was simple, if he could just get Cas into the same predicament he was in. His hand went over to his friend’s thigh, but the asshole had seen this coming, had sat himself up on a knee so that the angle wasn’t right, and sure, Dean could touch, could feel that he was hard too, but he couldn’t do fucking anything about it from there. 

Their eyes met for a brief second and Dean could have sworn Castiel’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. He squirmed then, when Cas’s hand returned immediately to his crotch. He started actually planning out his homicide, when Cas finally, _finally,_ dipped underneath the elastic of his waistband and ran a fingertip along his cock (how did he have a semi again, already?). He pushed a finger onto the head, squeezed out a fresh drop of old come and took it, dragging his hand back out and lifting that finger to his lips and he fucking sucked it. Sucked Dean’s come off of his finger while he watched. 

 _Oh. My. God._ This asshole was literally going to be the death of him. 

All through the rest of the class, Cas kept his hand on Dean’s cock. Through the entire hour, Dean wanted the ground to swallow him whole, because it would be better than this complete torture. He rubbed him, just enough to keep him interested, just enough to keep him seriously fucking hard, most of the time. Once or twice he’d gone for it again and picked up speed and pushed his friend right to the fucking edge but he’d not let him spill out, not those times, because Dean had had his fun and now he was going to wait, wait until they could be together properly. Dean was half grateful and half distraught that Cas wasn’t in his next class. 

And then finally it was over. The bell rang and signalled the end of the hour and Dean breathed out a sigh of relief even though Cas was pumping him hard again and he shot him a look because he wasn’t sure if he was meant to come before they stood or not. He was close enough, if Cas would let him. But his friend just smiled, and dropped his dick like he’d not been doing anything. Went instead to do his zipper back up. 

That bit might have been over, but he still had to get to his next class with a stain on his pants and the world’s biggest boner. As if reading his mind, Cas handed him his jacket with a slightly pointed look, and he nodded as he took it from his friend, and stood, holding it against his crotch. They walked along the corridor in silence, because what do you do when you’re in public and you can’t scald your friend for making you come in your pants in class? But before they could fork off in alternate directions, Cas put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into the bathroom. 

His friend just smirked at him as he lined up with the urinal and peed like he hadn’t been sporting a boner through that whole class. How the fuck did he even do that? Dean could do with a piss, too, but it would end up all over the frigging walls if he tried now. He’d hoped Cas had pulled him in here to fix the problem he'd created, that tiny, weeny little problem that was screwing with his brain right about now, not to actually _use the bathroom_.

But once Cas had washed his hands and seen the completely helpless look on his face he seemed to take pity, and as soon as the last other boy in there had left, Cas put a hand flat on his chest and pushed, backing him into a cubicle so hard he sat down on the toilet. He was lucky the seat had been down. 

Castiel licked his lips again as he locked the door behind them, and he walked closer, still standing, but straddling over Dean’s legs, pushing close enough that his crotch was right in front of his friend’s face. He unbuckled his own belt, and undid his zipper, shimmied his pants down just far enough, and watched his friend’s eyes go wide when his cock bobbed free. He didn’t have to tell Dean what to do. His friend was so fucking worked up that he relished the thought of some actual action, and his lips slipped over his head almost automatically. 

His two strong hands went to the side of Dean’s face, and the other boy looked up at him with blown pupils under his long lashes. He looked so perfect with his lips around his cock. It was a beautiful fucking sight. He’d absolutely loved torturing the shit out of him over the last hour, and there had been times where it had almost got the better of him, but he wasn’t done yet. Castiel rocked his hips forward, and Dean almost choked, but he groaned too, and where he had been bobbing his lips up and down he stilled, and instead, Castiel set his own rhythm, fucking into his face without reserve. It was glorious. Literally, fucking glorious. 

And the sight of Castiel, doing that while Dean was as hard as he was? It was complete persecution. He needed something, needed anything, because he was going to come again anyway so he may as well get it over with quickly. His friend’s movements were getting deeper and he almost had to tilt his head back to let him fill his throat, but he didn’t fit, not his whole dick, and he realised that Cas had taken one of his own hands onto his length too, and oh god, oh fucking god. This was literally the best thing he’d ever seen, in his whole life. Although he’d tried, his hands were pinned, and he had no way of reaching his cock which was leaking like crazy with how turned on he was right now (more than ever, he’d wager). 

The fingers in his hair started to clutch desperately and pull at his hair and that was how Dean knew his friend was getting close. He was right there with him, ready to jump off that cliff, even though he couldn’t even fucking reach his dick it was spasming already and oh god, oh _god_ there it was, he could even fucking see it. Cas pushed in deep for a final time before he started to cry out, catching himself only a second later as he slammed his mouth shut and breathed through the rest of the incredible wave of release, letting his come shoot to the back of Dean’s throat and caressing his friend’s cheek while he did so. Dean was, meanwhile, hovering on that precipice because he was almost fucking there but no one had touched him in an age and he _needed someone’s hand on his fucking cock already_. 

Now spent, Castiel was happy to oblige, and he took a step back. He leant in to kiss the boy, licking into his mouth and pressing down firmly on Dean’s dick with his other hand, giving just the gentlest of rubs before his best friend’s back arched away from the toilet and he spilled, again, all around himself. Cas loved watching him come. He loved kissing him while he came, because Dean was so bad at keeping control that he always stopped when it hit him, and Cas was awarded with this same, close up view of his hung open mouth and rolling back eyes every time. 

When he’d finished, and was coming down, Dean hung his head back against the cistern and panted. His boxers were truly sodden now, and it felt disgusting. “You’re a complete asshole.” He said quietly, and Castiel grinned a wicked grin. 


	10. "It's not you, Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, FYI, because this is a prequel I've tried to keep the timelines accurate so it's set circa 2003-2004ish, hence the absence of internet access and cell phones. Texting used to cost money lol!

Tonight Castiel was on top of him. His legs straddling his either side as he bent over him and licked into his mouth, as he controlled him and made him come apart with that expert tongue. It made him want to shout it out, the truth, made him want to wail out an _I love you_ as he dragged those perfect fucking lips across his jaw and onto his ear, as his stupid teeth nibbled at his lobe and played  around while those deft, long, strong fingers darted south. 

He was already naked. Cas always seemed to enjoy taking command (which was definitely as much of a turn on as it sounded), and he’d stripped him off long before he’d straddled him, still fully fucking clothed much to Dean’s disapproval. There was a wicked glint in his eye tonight, though. One that Dean associated with experimenting, one that meant he was in for some treat or another, something they hadn’t tried before. It was exhilarating, but at the same time it was chilling him to the bone. The gayer that this got, the less they could blame it on practice without accepting that there was more to it. 

The little moan that escaped his lips when Castiel’s hands went to his inner thighs and pushed his legs gently apart had him slapping his hand up to his mouth for something to bite on. That was part of the rules, making no noise. They’d had more than one close encounter and they had to be careful not to get caught. His dad was only in the next room, after all. Castiel grinned up at him devilishly, though. With every night that they spent like this, every time he brought Dean to the brink and pushed him over the edge his confidence was swelling, because he was good at this and he knew it. He half wondered if that was why Dean kept coming back, but he wasn’t complaining. He loved to hear the little noises his best friend couldn’t help but make. He just wished he was able to enjoy them as much as he should.

While Castiel’s tongue went out to lick his lips at the sight of his cock standing hard and ready, begging for some attention, Dean could only chew on his hand to stop from groaning again. He watched as Cas considered his next move, could almost see his mind processing his options with every slight squint of his eyes. He knew his friend was a little nervous, but he wasn’t sure why. 

Castiel was going to do it, he’d decided. He’d toyed with the idea for a long time, wondered whether it was pushing things too far, because it was certainly making his orientation obvious if he decided to go through with this. But he wanted it. They both did. So Cas took in a breath, took Dean’s other hand in his own, and squeezed, while he let a finger trail slowly up the inside of his best friend’s legs, giving him every chance to stop him as he dragged it up to circle the tight ring of muscle that was the only barrier left between their physical selves. 

With wide eyes, Dean felt his heart pounding. He had seen how long it had taken Castiel to pluck up the courage to get this far and he knew that this effectively was his coming out. He didn’t like to think about what it said about him. It was terrifying that he wanted it so much. Paralysed by overwhelming desire, he just nodded, and Cas paused only for long enough to grab some lube from his drawer and spread it across his hand, before he pressed slowly but firmly inside. 

And it felt strange beyond belief. It was an intense pressure, and there was certainly some pain, but somehow he felt more complete and calm than he perhaps should have. His friend thrusted it in and out a few times and honestly he didn’t feel much until he’d adjusted, and that left Cas looking more frustrated, so he added another, crooking them forward as he dragged back out and oh, _that_ was why people did this. He felt his heart jump almost into his mouth as he felt the gratification, and that frown that Castiel had worn turned back into his smug little smile because he knew now that he’d got it right. 

It was a different sort of pleasure. It was good, really, fucking good. Everything tingled. But his dick was still throbbing and aching with need and he felt ultimately confused. It was amazing and he was beyond turned on and he felt like he was getting closer with every thrust he just didn’t understand quite how. Not that he was complaining. Cas was beyond incredible, was just watching all those tiny facial expressions he was making without permission and he was happy to show him just how much he was enjoying this game because he deserved to know that he was some sort of sex god. 

It came over him quicker than he could have imagined, and Cas hadn’t even touched his cock once. His back lifted off the bed as it hit him, that flash of pure pleasure, and he was suddenly aware that he must have been making a stupid amount of noise because Castiel had pressed their lips together again to shut him up. It was a kind of turn on that he had just come all over Cas’s clothes, and it felt good when his cock pulsed post release against the fabric of his friend’s dirty jeans. 

Now that he was done, Cas growled. He opened his jeans up and pulled his cock out roughly, still really fucking hard, and took himself in hand, quickly pumping his own length, pulling back to hover over Dean, with every intention of coming all over him and marking him as his own.

But Dean had other ideas. He pushed, and Castiel rolled reluctantly onto his back, looking something of a Jackson Pollock with Dean’s come splattered all over his shirt (and Dean loved looking at his handiwork). Castiel watched with confusion as Dean climbed over him, but didn’t do anything else, just sat there on his thighs. 

“Carry on.” Dean whispered. “I just wanted to enjoy the show.” 

 _Sadistic bastard._ Castiel thought to himself, but he carried on, jacking himself off just the way he liked it while his friend watched with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, practically back to half mast himself. He didn’t last long, not after watching Dean come apart like he had done, and Dean’s hand joined his own on his dick to help him last it out as he struggled to keep going through his aftershocks. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of sex with this boy. Even if it was just _practice._ The thought left a bitter feeling in his mind. 

But still, best not to dwell on that now. Not when Dean still had his dick out underneath him. 

 

*

 

He lay there winded. He was barely breathing, and he had no idea how long had passed since John had left the house. He wasn’t even entirely sure he _had_ left the house. But he’d heard a door slam. Every time he tried to breathe in more than a slither of air his chest hurt like hell. He’d raised a hand to it and it ached like a bitch, but there was no blood, so he figured that the damage could have been worse. The things that he’d said ran through his head and he knew he’d been being way too careless. How did he ever think it was a good idea, getting involved with Castiel? 

The thought of his friend was what he clung on to, as he pulled himself up. It took literally everything he had to stop from screaming out with the pain, but once he was upright it was somehow a little better. He could suck in just enough air to stay conscious, at least. He sat like that for some time longer. Maybe thirty minutes or so. He knew he had some cleaning up to do if he wanted to go to school today. He chanced a glance down at his wristwatch and frowned. It was already nine thirty. Had he really been down that long? Maybe he’d lost consciousness at some point. School was out of the picture, then. 

With another giant heave he stood, steadying himself on the mantelpiece and trying not to wobble. He looked up to the mirror, and for once his face had got the best deal, only a small scuff to the side of his cheek. He didn’t fancy looking at his chest, because he could already envisage the bruise that was surely there, or would soon be there. He remembered the boot coming at him and knocking him back, remembered the dreadful feeling of not being able to breathe (even if he was used to that), and remembered the sharp pain near his ribs. It felt like they’d been snapped in half. But then, maybe they had. 

 _I didn’t raise a faggot._ He recalled the voice as clear as day, remembered the spit that had caught his cheek where John had been standing so close and remembered the acrid taste of his breath. He remembered the punches that followed and had him sinking to the floor. He was just glad Cas had got out before he’d got up. He’d never been so relieved that his dorky friend had insisted on going home before school.  

Why didn’t he shut his fucking mouth last night? Why had he even thought it would be ok to _play_ with Castiel in this house, when John was only feet away? He was such a fucking idiot and now he’d risked everything. It couldn’t carry on now, there was no way. Not while he was still a minor and was forced to live in this hellhole. Even if they tried to be more careful John would know. Even if they kept it just to Evelyn’s place, even if they went halfway across the country, he’d know. He’d know and he’d kill him. He’d said as much. 

 _He’s not welcome in this house, boy. He’s a bent cunt._ John had hissed upon seeing Castiel leave, and rather than fight back, Dean had just nodded his head obediently. He’d just stood, shaking, with tears in his eyes like an idiot child and tried not to piss himself. _If you ever so much as think about that faggot naked then your life will not be worth living._ _And nor will his._  

Dean shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. He wasn’t so convinced his life was worth living already. That wasn’t all John had said, but he couldn’t bring himself to replay the rest of the conversation. He’d put them all in danger, and that was all he needed to know.  

He couldn’t go to school, but he couldn’t stay here, either. As he hobbled across to the front door he felt a cough brewing in his lungs, and despite the agonising pain it left it choked its way out of him, leaving him crippled over. His hand was against his mouth out of habit, and when he pulled it away he chewed his lip, because he wasn’t sure how worried he should be that he’d just coughed up blood. He mulled over his options, before settling on one and making the slow, excruciating journey by foot to Bobby Singer’s. 

Even Bobby was shocked at the state Dean was in when he arrived at his house, swaying dangerously and leaning heavily on the windowsill after he’d knocked on the door. He loosed an arm and supported the teenager on his shoulder, edging him inside and pulling him across the living room to the couch, where he lowered him flat. Dean all but screamed when he was laid on his back. He was barely conscious where the wave of severe pain had hit him and when Bobby pulled him back up he was sobbing without hope of control, and even Bobby didn’t know what to do with him. He put an arm around him for a while, until the tears at least had subsided, before scurrying off to get him some aspirin. 

Dean took the pills gratefully, completely mortified at breaking down but pleased that he was here at least and that he was safe for now. He felt himself drifting off before he could stop himself, and when the aspirin had dulled the pain his dreams took him, taking him somewhere safer, where he was free and alone with his best friend. 

 

*

 

“And where is Mr Winchester today, Mr Novak?” Another teacher asked at role call, when Dean’s name went unanswered. He didn’t believe that he didn’t know, none of them did. But he didn’t. He really had no idea, and he was beginning to freak out, because Dean had been fine when he’d left that morning so he knew he wasn’t sick. There was this sense of dread in his stomach, this intense, horrible sensation that something was wrong, really, badly wrong, and it was hard not to just get up and run, to try and find his friend in case he was in danger. But the more sensible, less confident part of him was whispering too, was nagging quietly away at his self esteem and somehow he was inclined to agree with it. It was more likely, of course. It was far more reasonable that his taking things to the next level and outing himself all but verbally would have scared Dean off. Fuck, he’d gone too far, hadn’t he? 

Damage control. That was the next best option. His friend wasn’t an asshole, so maybe if he got there quickly, if he went to him straight after school, begged for forgiveness, begged for secrecy and apologised… maybe he could come out of this ok. Surely Dean would forgive him eventually? At the end of the day, he hadn’t stopped him at the time. 

That little nagging voice though, somewhere at the back of his head, was eating him away while he sat patiently through his classes. He was right. Dean hadn’t stopped him at the time. And surely that was more worrying? If he’d left it until now to freak out then… oh Jesus. If he was having a sexuality crisis of his own and Castiel had done that to him in the midst of it… fuck, his friend was never going to forgive him. Because there’s no way Dean could be gay. Sure, he might well be in truth, but he was never going to admit to it. Fuck, fuck, shit. He’d blown it, hadn’t he? 

He all but ran to his car as soon as school was out. He climbed quickly into the driver’s seat and sped along the streets, almost causing an accident on the way from how distractedly he was driving. He held up a hand in apology and tried to calm himself down. He’d get on his knees if he had to. Dean would forgive him eventually, surely? As long as he promised never to go near his cock again. 

The door was, of course, locked when he arrived back. And although he hammered on the outside with his knuckles there was no answer. He stood there, knocking, for probably ten minutes before Sam got home, shot him a funny look, and let him inside. The younger Winchester couldn’t understand why Cas didn’t know where his brother was, and climbed the stairs with him, his own brow furrowing in worry when his eyes landed on Dean’s empty room. 

“Maybe he went to your house?” Sam suggested, and Castiel nodded, although he was fairly sure he wouldn’t find him there. He tore across the street, dodging the traffic, and unlocked his mom’s front door. His house too, was empty. He chewed his lip as he crossed back over the road, and explained to Sam that he was going to find him. He felt guilty about leaving the thirteen year old alone, but Sam just shrugged like he was used to it. Castiel made him take his cell number in case he came home, needed anything or thought of something, and Sam wondered briefly if his brother’s friend had gone a bit mad, because surely he knew he'd be fine, because he was left alone all the time. Always had been. But he shrugged because he liked Castiel, and went back up to his room when he’d gone. 

After searching his mind for what felt like a year, Cas had a sudden thought. Maybe Dean had done the same thing he’d done the first time things had got a bit weird between them. Maybe he’d gone back to her, to Anna. He thought about how he’d seen the red-haired girl kissing Benny during the Macbeth production, and cursed himself for not telling his friend about it. He knew vaguely where Anna lived, and he could remember Dean telling him about the shack in the meadow. Maybe they’d gone back there? 

It took him a long time to find it, because of course he’d never been there before, but when he reached the shed, again it was empty, and his heart sank. He was panicking when he called Sam to ask if there had been any news, and his stomach just plummeted further when the young boy said he’d not seen or heard anything. But he did have an idea, he said. _What about Bobby?_

Castiel had heard Dean mention Bobby Singer’s name only a handful of times. He knew that he was a friend of his father’s, that he ran Singer’s Auto not too far from their houses, and that he’d probably been the closest thing to a father that he’d ever known. Cas had always felt a bit jealous when Dean had brought up Bobby. He’d always felt a bit put out that Dean had had two fathers when he’d never had one. Evelyn had never married, never found anyone who was quite right for her, and she’d adopted him on her own. He loved her, completely and utterly, and it had never mattered to him that she wasn’t his real, biological mother, and it hadn’t overly bothered him that he’d not had a father but he’d always felt a bit curious about what it might have been like. He knew now of course that John could hardly be considered a father to either of the boys, and that Bobby probably could have done better than throwing a ball around in his yard a few times a year for them to play with, but when he was younger he'd harboured a little resentment. 

So it was Bobby’s door that he found himself knocking on next. He stood and looked up at the house, thinking about how the flaking blue paint reminded him of the Winchester house, when the door opened, and the gruff, older man he’d met only once before by chance stood looking at him with crossed arms. 

“Hi.” Castiel said, and his voice felt very small. He was probably as tall as the man in front of him, but he was fairly intimidating. 

“You’re Dean’s friend, aren’t you?” Bobby asked curiously. “Cas… isn’t it?” He only used the shortened version of the name because he couldn’t remember the full pronunciation, but Castiel didn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah. I am. Have you seen him? I can’t find him.” 

The relief that washed through him was unreal when Bobby nodded. “Yeah. He’s here.” He said abruptly, but he turned and let Cas follow him through to his living room all the same. Cas felt his heart pounding when his eyes landed on his friend, because he’d known that something wasn’t right, and here it was, laid out in front of him. 

Dean was slumped on the couch. His eyes were closed in sleep but his skin was sweaty and pale, and his breathing was really shallow. Cas went hurriedly to his side, his hand reaching out for his shoulder and just brushing against his cheek. Dean stirred, his eyes flashing open and his lips curling into a smile when he saw his friend there with him. But the smile soon faded and was replaced by a grimace, because he sucked in too much air and his chest was killing him again. 

“What have you done?” Cas whispered, very aware of Bobby watching as Dean leant forward and dropped his head onto his shoulder. He could see what was going through Bobby’s mind. He could see how obvious he was being even without action. He just couldn’t get a hold on himself or his emotions. He was going to get them both into trouble if he wasn’t careful. Dean didn’t answer his question. Whether that was out of choice or inability, Cas wasn’t sure. He pressed a hand to his shoulder and pushed him back upright, before shooting a glance at Bobby, who pointed at his chest. 

The dark purple boot print on Dean’s chest brought tears of shock to Castiel’s eyes. He sucked back a breath and tried to get a hold on himself, because he was freaking out and that was just embarrassing. It was obvious that someone had done this to him, he just had no idea who. Or why. Why hadn’t Dean just come to school like he should have? He must have had other plans or ideas or regrets. Maybe… what if he _had_ freaked out like he’d thought. What if he _had_ gone to Anna, and found her there but not alone? Oh god. That had to be it. It must have been Benny that did this to him. 

“Dean, we need to get you to the ER.” Castiel whispered frantically. He’d lifted his fingers and just quickly touched the bruise, and Dean had hissed like crazy from the pain. He was panicking now, really fucking scared, and his emotions were playing hell with him to boot. 

“Can’t, Cas. Dad will find out.” Dean choked out, and Cas could see how hard it was for him just to speak and that just spurred him on more. He began to insist, getting frustrated when Dean just shook his head and refused to speak. 

“Uh, Cas?” Bobby interjected a few moments later. He obviously felt awkward in the moment, and Cas could only feel guilty because he knew he was making things weird. “They wouldn’t be able to do anything for him there. If he’s hurt a rib, all they can do is give him painkillers.” 

Castiel bit his lip and his tongue, feeling a little put out and completely out of his comfort zone. He was unsure how Bobby knew that, but figured it was best not to ask. John obviously had led a fairly shady life and he supposed most of his friends had been beaten up once or twice. “Ok, fine.” He muttered irritably. His hand went out to squeeze Dean’s, and his friend shot him a grateful look. “Then I’m calling my mom.” 

“Cas!” Dean tried to protest, and Bobby watched on as the elder Winchester boy started to cry, but rather than feel sad, Bobby felt relieved. Relieved that this boy had at least one person in his life that loved him enough to stand up for him, someone prepared to take care of him. He flittered back off to the bathroom in search of some more aspirin while Castiel made the call.

“Mom?” Cas felt better just hearing her voice, hearing the lilt in her tone as she answered with her usual, _hello sweetheart._ “No, we’re not really ok. I mean I am, I’m fine. But Dean… Dean’s hurt.” 

Sure, it was hurting. It hurt like fucking crazy that Dean was just sat next to him and sobbing into his shoulder while he had to ask his mom to come and help them. It hurt that he couldn’t help him himself. It hurt that he couldn’t take his pain away, but his mom would know what to do, or she’d find out. She always did. When he’d hung up the phone he wrapped a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, leaning in to him just enough. He didn’t want to touch his chest again, didn’t want to cause him pain. He kissed the top of his head as he cried, because it felt like he’d fucked it all up anyway so he may as well seal the deal, and Dean just clutched him tighter. 

It took a few minutes after Bobby had returned for Dean to calm down, but with Castiel’s help and encouragement he sat himself back upright and accepted the pills he was handed, swallowing them back with a wince. He felt completely mortified, that he was taking up everyone’s time. He had no idea how Cas had thought to find him here, how many places he must have been first before trying this old man’s salvage yard. He felt guilty for worrying him, but then, he was worried himself. This hurt. Really hurt. He still couldn’t look at it himself, but the look on Cas’s face when he’d seen the bruise told him everything he needed to know. 

He remembered what Bobby had said, and decided he was probably right. It felt like he’d hurt a rib. Felt like he'd snapped two in half. Maybe he had. It would explain the blood he’d been coughing up all day. Not long after he’d passed out that morning he’d felt Bobby holding an ice pack against the bruise and all he’d felt able to do was shoot him a weak smile. It had helped a little. Maybe once they got out of here he’d ask for more ice. 

They sat there for a while in silence. Bobby just watching them while Castiel draped his arm around his neck and Dean just buried his head into him, sucked in his smell. He felt so helpless, but the longer he sat there waiting, the more pressing his need became. 

“Cas?” He said quietly, and his friend whispered an _mmm?_ in acknowledgement. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Castiel said, as though surprised. “Right, ok.” He had no idea how he was going to get Dean up, but Bobby had crossed to his side too. Castiel stood, and he and Bobby took an arm each and heaved from underneath on the count of three. Dean held in the scream, but he felt it all the same. The pain was awful, and once he was standing, he had to lean heavily on Cas just to keep himself upright, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds just to blink the pain away. 

“Alright?” Cas asked, although it was obvious he wasn’t. Dean nodded a moment later, and Cas half lifted him to the bathroom where he hovered awkwardly, unsure how much he was needed. He left Dean standing near the toilet, unsupported, but the more he watched him wobble the more worried he became, so he shut the door with himself inside and tried not to think about all of the things they’d done as he watched his friend drop his hands to his zipper. Dean just looked down at the moving target that was the toilet and groaned, and Cas rushed back to his side to lower him down so he could sit, feeling very uncomfortable and intrusive as he turned away. 

“Come on, this is far from the weirdest thing we’ve done.” Dean pointed out with some effort, and Cas huffed a laugh in response when he turned back to help him up a minute or so later, and helped his friend out in pulling up his pants as he leaned against the wall.

“Was it Benny?” Cas asked suddenly, because he really needed to know. 

Dean eyed him with a blank expression that Cas couldn’t read for shit. It was as good enough an excuse as any. Maybe he should just say yes and decide that was his latest lie. He definitely needed to blame this on someone, because he could hardly pass it off as falling down the stairs. But then, if Cas suddenly got pissed… maybe that would lead to more drama than they needed. 

“Just drop it. We’ll talk when I can actually breathe.” He choked out instead. 

With a helping hand from the older man, Castiel lowered Dean back down onto the couch, and he shot a grateful smile in their direction as he let himself relax, and felt the pain slowly ebbing away. They waited there for another ten minutes before the door knocked again, and Cas felt completely relieved when he saw his mom being led into the room. He was so not ready to be an adult. It was wonderful being able to hand over the reins. 

Evelyn took one look at Dean and her eyes narrowed. She rushed to kneel in front of him and he smiled at her weakly, his brow still sweaty from his trip up to the bathroom. He looked as awful as she had worried he might. “How are you feeling?” She asked him, running her hand across his cheek, her mothering instincts at full force. No one messes with her boys. 

“Bad.” He admitted, and that worried her as much as anything else might have, because he always tried to act tough, never let on that anything was hurting unless it was agony. Her son shot her a panicked look, but she smiled at him to reassure him. 

“Let’s get you home, honey.” She said quietly, and Dean’s eyes went wide so she clarified. “To ours, of course.”

It was a group effort, getting him into the car. Dean was basically a dead weight when it came to getting up and lowering into the car, so it took Bobby as well to help. But he did manage to walk without much assistance, just needing Castiel’s arm under his for support. He was beginning to figure out how to stop the pain. If he kept his chest in a line it wouldn’t hurt. If he bent his back, however, it was murder. 

He couldn’t lie flat, either. They tried lying him flat across the backseat of the car but he was almost sobbing with how much that hurt and they’d pulled him back upright in a hurry, and now he was sat, basically on Castiel’s lap, with his legs either side of him, leaning back against his chest. Because the seats were too upright, and otherwise he wasn't upright enough. It was humiliating, really. Or it would have been, if it had been anyone other than his family. 

When they’d pulled up on Evelyn’s driveway she looked in her mirror, and watched as John crossed his own yard to pull open the door to his house. She turned and looked into the back seat, looking directly into Dean’s eyes. “Your dad is over there. You’re sure you don’t want me to go and get him?” She asked. She knew he’d decline and she knew why, but at the same time she didn’t want him thinking she was overly suspicious. She didn’t want her son to figure it out, either, because Dean needed a friend who wasn’t going to freeze up if he found out, and as much as she loved Castiel he could be a panicker, and he would definitely not cope well if he realised what was going on. He hadn’t ever needed to be as tough as his friend had.

“No.” Dean said quickly, a little too quickly. And Cas recognised the panic in his eyes when he turned his head to look at him. “I… uh… I don’t want to worry him.” Dean added, and Cas knew he was just making excuses, but he was fairly sure his mom was just as aware how much of an ass John Winchester was. 

They were both grateful when Eve decided not to probe any further. The three waited patiently in the car in silence for a few minutes, until John was definitely in the house and locked away. When she was happy he was out of sight, Eve climbed out of the car, and helped to support Dean while Castiel clambered out next to her, and together (or at least, kind of together, in truth, Castiel did the majority of the work) they dragged Dean out while he held back his cries, and helped him into the house. 

Cas led Dean over to the couch and supported him while he sat, and Dean looked up at him gratefully when he let go and stretched, working out the kinks that the unexpected exercise had left in his back. His muscles looked really fucking sexy where his shirt had ridden up, and had it not been for the pain and his resolution to stop putting him at risk by _having those fucking thoughts in the first place_ then they would definitely have been getting it on tonight. 

Crossing to sit next to him, Evelyn put a hand on Dean’s arm and smiled, but when the hand slipped down and went to lift his shirt up, went to reveal his abdomen with all of its scars he froze, and his hand grabbed hers before she could move any further. He sucked in a breath, although it was already hard to do, and he found his eyes welling with tears and he had started to tremble, because he couldn’t let her see. He’d only let Bobby see because he’d been passed out when he’d tried. And even though she’d seen before, even though Bobby had too, today he wasn’t willing to let them because today there was nothing that they could do to help and today he was a completely different type of vulnerable. 

“Mom.” Cas whispered, his hand on her shoulder. She looked up to her son and he shook his head as she frowned. But by this point Dean was crying, he was crying without hope of stopping, and before Cas could lean in his mom had beat him to it and he was sobbing against her chest while she held him close and pressed kisses into his hair. Because really, she was his mother too. 

And he cried for a long time. Let out all his pain because they couldn’t see how much it was all hurting but he couldn’t help but feel it. Because that’s what mothers were for. At some point, and he didn’t know when, Cas had taken his other side, had threaded their fingers together and leant against his side, was clutching his arm like he was going somewhere without him. He was grateful that he was there, truly. But it just made it hurt more, having him be so damned supportive when he was going to have to tell him they needed to stop, even though he didn’t want to. Why couldn’t his dad have been normal? Why couldn’t his mom be alive? 

When his tears did eventually stop falling, Dean felt more calm and peaceful than he had in a while. Eve let him go slowly, and her hand trailed back to the hem of his shirt, eyeing his reaction carefully. Dean turned his neck to bury his face into her son’s chest as he nodded, and Cas held him as he watched his mother grimace at the sight of the bruise. She took a long, hard look before covering him back up, and slipped quickly off into the kitchen, returning moments later with towels and that same bag of frozen corn, that maybe she’d actually eat one day. 

She tossed the towel up to Castiel, and he shot her a curious look. 

“He’ll need it to bite on.” She said simply, and Cas looked back at her in horror. Dean pulled back to look his friend in the eye, and opened his mouth obediently while Cas passed the towel over, and Dean gripped it between his teeth, frowning at the texture of the towel against his tongue. But he was glad of it, because when Eve pressed the frozen bag against him, the pain was unbearable, and he was screaming even through the towel and Cas was clinging to him desperately, trying to be supportive, and his fingers were somehow on his skin and he was definitely drawing blood with his nails but fuck if he could help it. He had no chance. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” She said softly, and Dean could only nod, because she was only doing what was best for him. But gradually the pain eased, and as his body adjusted to the touch and the temperature he choked another breath in, and Cas squeezed his arms around him as he lifted his head to look back up at him. He coughed a little, wincing as his busted chest pushed up against Evelyn’s hand, and he was just glad that the towel was still in his mouth, or he would have been, if Cas hadn’t noticed the blood he’d coughed up when he took it out. His best friend looked at him with pure fear in his eyes and Dean just squeezed his eyes closed because he didn’t want to have to see how scared he was. 

“I think you might have bruised, or broken a rib.” Eve sighed when Cas showed her the towel with alarm. She passed the ice pack to her son, who took over the duty as she went off to look it up online. Her computer would take a while to start up and then she had to get the dial-up working, too. They hadn’t bothered investing in broadband just yet. 

A look at Castiel told Dean he was still stewing, racking his brains. He still had no idea what to tell him, whether to let him think that Benny was responsible or try and come up with some other excuse. They sat in silence, and Castiel was so unusually quiet for so long that Dean started to think he was really pissed with him, because usually he couldn’t shut up. He’d have said something, then, tried to diffuse the tension somehow, but Eve was back, and she was talking already, saying that she thought she was probably right about the ribs, that hopefully he’d be alright with regular painkillers and a bit of time. She said he needed to start trying to take deep breaths and walking a bit too, and to let her know if he was coughing up any more blood because that wasn’t exactly reassuring. 

He just nodded, staring mostly blankly at her, because he'd heard what she’d said, sure, but his mind was still elsewhere. He figured she could sense it, too, because her eyes had narrowed and she’d dragged a dining chair to sit in front of him. 

“Are you ready to tell us what happened?” She asked calmly, although it sent Dean’s heart racing all the same. “Because really, we ought to tell the police. It’s a serious assault.” 

Dean shook his head in a hurry. “No. No police.” He rushed, and he winced as he forgot about his ribs and drew in a breath too deep. 

“Dean someone’s done this to you and -” Castiel tried to protest. 

“-No police.” Dean interrupted, a firm frown on his face as he looked back at his best friend. Cas sighed, and threw his hands up with exasperation. 

“Ok.” Eve said quietly, and she reached out to take his hand. “Why not?” 

“Because… because my dad…” He began, voice shaking and unsteady, and he could see her eyes go wide because she thought he was about to finally own up to it, but he wasn’t, of course, how could he? “He’s got friends in the police, and then he’ll find out. And I don’t want him to know what happened.” 

Evelyn rolled her eyes as she sat back upright and let his hand go. He felt like he’d disappointed her, and it was hurting. He couldn’t bear to look at her, so he turned instead to face his friend, but Cas was looking purposefully anywhere but at him and he seemed pissed too, pissed because he knew he was being evasive and he didn’t understand why. Dean felt suddenly extremely guilty. 

“Mom, can you give us a minute?” Castiel said after a short time. Eve nodded before she stood, heading away from them and into the kitchen to make them some dinner. Dean chewed his lip when they were left alone, and Cas sprung off the couch and started to pace around the room irritably. Whatever he had expected to come out of Castiel’s mouth, though, it wasn’t this. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me I’d gone too far?” His friend hissed, sounding part angry and a little sad as he turned and paced back towards him.

Dean shuffled in his seat, wincing at the pain and looking momentarily confused, because he wasn’t actually sure where Cas was going with this. “What?” He asked. 

“Don’t be an ass. You know what I’m talking about. Last night.” Cas snapped. “You didn’t have to run off back to her, you know. You could have just talked to me.” 

The pieces started to come together in Dean’s mind but he looked at the floor while he connected the dots. Cas seemed to think he’d gone back to Anna, or tried to, and Benny had stopped him, but why? Why would he have gone back to Anna? Oh right. The fingering thing. The all but coming out as gay, thing. Well, it worked as an excuse, he supposed, even if it was the coward’s way out. And it would be a good way of getting them to a stopping point if he went with it. But was there a less painful way of doing it? Probably. Could he think of one? Hell no. 

“Cas.” He complained, and he held out his hand until his friend walked reluctantly back over and rejoined him on the couch, lacing their fingers together effortlessly. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry.” He whispered, but Cas still just looked pissed. “It’s not… I didn’t really mind.” He continued, and holy crap he was bad at this, wasn’t he. “I just… ugh. I don’t know. I had a freak out, alright?” 

“A freak out, Dean? Really?” Castiel chided, and for a moment Dean could see inside him, could see how insecure and vulnerable his friend was and it hurt so fucking much not to be able to comfort him in the way he wanted to. “You should have just talked to me. Not tried to run back to your ex-girlfriend. I thought you were done with her. I thought…” He trailed off, and although he really, _really_ wanted to know what Cas thought he figured he’d be better off not asking. Castiel’s hand went up to his cheek and he couldn’t have known how much he wanted to kiss him at that point in time.

But goddamnit he was going to have to pull the plug now, wasn’t he? Pull the fucking trigger and hope to god neither of them died. “The stuff we do at night, Cas…” Dean whispered, although his cheek was pressing involuntarily into the hand because he knew that in seconds it would be gone and he’d never get to feel it there again. “It has to stop.” 

Dean wished he hadn’t seen the disappointment in his friend’s eyes glaring so obviously as it had. He wished that, actually, he could have just kissed him and told him he loved him and that he was worth the whole fucking world, but this wasn’t a rom-com, and unfortunately it was his stupid, real fucking life instead. His hand squeezed Castiel’s fingers but they hardly even twitched in response, and after a while his friend just pulled back and looked at him with a casual, constructed smile while he nodded. “Sure.” Cas said calmly, and fuck he was a better actor than Dean gave him credit for. 

“It’s not you, Cas. Really, honestly, it isn’t.” Dean felt the need to insist, but he could see that Cas wasn’t buying it, even behind that oscar-winning façade he had up. He couldn’t have known that actually, his friend had decided that Dean couldn’t be happy with either of them, with the fact that Cas was gay or that he was showing him that he might be, too. “It’s just gone a bit far. We’ve gone beyond practicing to some sort of friends with benefits thing and I don’t want either of us getting hurt.” 

“Ok.” Cas forced a smile onto his face and let Dean nuzzle into his neck. He was hurt already, anyway. He didn’t realise that Dean was, too.  “It’s fine, we just go back to the way things were.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean said quietly, and Castiel wished he didn’t sound so reluctant. 

“I probably should have told you before…” Cas began with a sigh. “Anna… I saw her… she and -”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean stated, cutting him off. He’d seen too, at the school play, how Anna had wasted no time in wrapping her lips around Benny’s once he’d done with her. They looked fairly familiar with each other, which was hardly a surprise. That group of people were all sleeping with each other. Not that he hadn’t spent basically the three weeks before they split fooling around with his best friend. 

“I’m sorry.” Cas whispered, but he hummed happily when Dean told him not to be. 

 

*

 

Some time later, after they’d finally made it up to bed (and Dean had declined a shower because he didn’t think he could do it alone and there was no fucking way he could be locked naked in a bathroom with Cas at the moment), and figured out that he could lie reasonably comfortably on his side if he was supported behind him by pillows, Cas had looked at him awkwardly. His friend had worn a slight blush and had chewed his lip before Dean had told him to spit out whatever weird thought was in his head, and when Cas had asked him if he wanted him to sleep on the couch he rolled his eyes, grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the mattress instead. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Dean said as Cas clambered under the covers. “Not only are you _still_ my best friend, Cas, it’s your fucking bed.” 

“I don’t want things to get weird.” Castiel admitted once he was comfortable. 

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped a hand on his waist. “Then stop making it weird.” 

They were silent for a little while after Cas apologised, and Dean wished, not for the first time, that he was able to control his emotions better, because he really was a fucking mess right now. It was killing him, completely destroying him, having Cas here in bed with him but not being able to do anything he wanted. Not that his rib would have let him, of course, but he wished his dick had got the memo, because he was hard under the sheets where it’d got used to getting excited whenever he was around Castiel, where his asshole of a mind wouldn’t stop reminding him what Cas’s fingers had felt like inside his hole.

“Dean?” Cas whispered as he rolled back over to him. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m passable.” Dean responded, but his lips were curled into a smile. He watched, his eyes now well enough adjusted to the dark to see, as Castiel’s eyes rolled and he gave him this bemused little smile, and fuck he was so fucking gorgeous. His hand was up on his cheek before he’d even realised what he was doing, because it had become so natural recently, and it was only when he’d pressed his lips against his friend’s that it hit him. But Cas had come to his senses first and had already pulled away, sucking in a deep breath and looking like he might have a panic attack of his own. 

“Are you sure you want to stop?” Cas chanced, and Dean could see how much courage that had taken from him, could see the little glint of hope in his eyes. It hurt like crazy that he was going to have to take that away. 

 _No._ He was definitely _not_ sure he wanted to stop. In fact he just wanted his friend to fuck him. Like really, fucking badly. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It was for the best. He had to keep him safe. “We have to.” He said instead. 

 


	11. "What's her name?"

It had taken him a few weeks to heal. Not emotionally, no those wounds weren't ever going away, but physically. He'd not coughed up any more blood since that night, so he figured his ribs probably hadn't snapped in half after all, maybe he'd just bruised them or something. And sure, it had taken a hell of a lot of effort to get up from that bed the next day but he was steadier on his feet and actually, the more he moved in the day the easier it got by night. His lungs started to take deeper breaths and by the end of the first week he was practically himself. The pain lingered a while longer, far eased from the initial agony but still a little crippling at times, until gradually it faded with the bruise. He still had the right number of ribs, at least. 

He'd been surprised, actually, that John had kept away from him for long enough for him to heal. He wondered at one point if his father had seen the way he could hardly even breathe at the start, if maybe there was a little compassion left in him somewhere, because he didn't lay a finger on him for some time. It was one of the longest gaps he'd ever had between incidences. But then again, his father had been getting laid recently, some girl he'd met at a bar who was only a year older than Dean, so maybe it actually was just that he was distracted. 

It didn't last though, because of course it wouldn't. And the morning that Dean sauntered home from spending yet another dissatisfying, sexless night in Castiel's bed, John had watched him through the window. 

"Where the fuck have you been, boy?" Came the harsh drawl from the living room as he slammed the front door behind him. Dean felt his heart take a long pause before shooting straight to warp speed. 

"With Cas." He answered honestly, because he'd realised by now that John had just watched him cross the street.

"I thought I'd made myself clear about that boy." John was towering in the doorway now, and Dean could feel himself shrinking back even though he wanted to fight more than anything. It was just the response that John always elicited from him, submission. _Not today_ , he thought.

"So what, we can't even be friends now?" Dean hissed, because he was irritated and somehow he got the courage to say that but oh fucking god _why_ had he said that? Now John's eyes were darkening and when he took a step closer Dean was so close to running. 

"The fuck do you mean, can't even be friends?" John quoted, his tone menacing as he edged threateningly closer. "What the fuck else would you be?" 

Dean just stood there like a stupid sitting duck. Let his mouth hang open slightly in horror and felt his eyes go wide. What the hell had he just done? He might have just gotten them both killed. Maybe if he ran now, maybe he could just about make it to Castiel's with enough time to get him to call the cops. There was no way he'd make it inside, but as long as Cas survived he'd die happy. 

When no explanation other than a terrified stare made its way to John's ears he started forward, and Dean was pinned before he could finish formulating his plan. John's hand went to his son's throat and pushed, lifting him by force as he started to crush his fingers together, squeezing the life out of him along with the air. To sweeten the deal, because he was really fucking pissed that the boy had so much as insinuated there might be more than just a friendship there, he warded off the suggestion with a strong punch to his stomach. That oughta teach him. Hell, it was probably the boy's fault too that his new girl had stood him up last night, so he hit him again for good measure. He hit him again when he thought about his dead wife, because he resented the fact that she'd burned instead of him. That he'd not got her out and left him instead with two kids he hadn't been keen on having in the first place. Then he hit him just a couple more times to make sure he'd got all the gay out. Because like it or not this was his son, and he bore his fucking name, and he would _not_ get away with shacking up with another boy, because he was a fucking man. Or he could become one, if he tried. He just needed to be reminded to act like one. 

The life was draining out of Dean. They were all but flashing in front of his eyes, those stupid, happy little moments that were so few and far between but mostly involved his tall younger brother or that lovely dark haired kid with the bright blue eyes. It was almost a relief, actually, to know that he was going to die here and now. To know that his fight would finally be over and the suffering would actually stop. He wondered if he'd see his mom, if he didn't go to hell for fucking around so much with the boy across the street. The one thing he could still feel was the pain, though. It really hurt where John had punched him and his lungs were burning where he was gasping for breath but failing to take any in. Even though he'd accepted his fate his body still fought. He was blue now, where he was choking. 

And then there was black, until there wasn't. 

At some point, John must have got bored or decided it would be better not to murder his own son in cold blood. Because even though he'd made peace with the idea that he wouldn't, Dean came around. He woke up slowly, eyes blinking the light out, and when he sucked in a deep breath he coughed and it hurt his throat almost as much as his stomach. He still was only just inside the door, and he'd just dropped to the ground, just fallen where his father had let go and left him there to rot. Maybe he had thought he was dead. Maybe he'd gone blue, turned white, and John had given up. But whatever had passed, he was definitely still living, because he was in too much pain to be in heaven and nothing was on fire here, so it wasn't hell either. 

After a while of lying down, staring up at the ceiling and testing whether various limbs were working, he decided that he’d got off fairly lightly, and eventually climbed to his feet. He steadied himself against the stair rail, catching his breath despite the discomfort in his neck, and slipped straight upstairs. He didn’t want to bump into John again today, or preferably ever, but today would do for now. As he reached his room and shut the door, he crossed over to the mirror on the wardrobe, and winced at the sight of the obvious fingertip bruises around his throat. There was no way he could pass that off as anything other than the truth, particularly given how bloodshot his left eye was.

He sat back down on the bed, because he was feeling a little nauseous, whether from the strangulation itself or the realisation that he couldn’t fucking hide it this time he wasn’t sure, but he coughed a little, (which hurt), and lay flat to try and appease his stomach. What the fuck was he going to do now? It was Sunday, he had school tomorrow. How the hell was he going to cover this up? He rolled over and grabbed his cell phone, (it was new, and he’d saved up for a while to buy one because it seemed like literally everyone had one now), and hovered over the call button for Castiel’s number for a while, until he realised he had no idea what to say. Eventually, he figured he’d have to hide here tomorrow at least, so maybe he could have gone away again? He typed out a message. “Goin hunting, wont b at skool 2moro”. 

He was groaning as he hit send. He hated having to lie to his friend. And suddenly tears were welling in his eyes because he hated everything about his life at the moment. He wouldn’t back down and stop seeing Castiel because he was the only thing keeping him sane, and as long as John thought they were just friends (which at the moment was the sad truth), then he probably wouldn’t kill him. Even if his emotions would be the death of him instead. It was tearing him apart, not being _with_ Castiel in the way he had been for those short two months. He missed it, immeasurably. Maybe he just needed to get back out there for a while, find some girls to fuck to take his mind off it. That might do the trick, he decided. He started trying to think about Anna, about what she’d looked like on top of him, but his phone vibrated before he could get hard. 

“Ok, don’t miss the dance or I’ll kill you”. Castiel had responded. Dean winced at the reminder, because of course he’d forgotten his promise to Cas. He’d assured him that he’d come along to the stupid school dance because Cas had to get friendly with his co-star for the next school production. Great. Just fucking great. Maybe he should go out and buy some makeup or something to cover up these bruises. Or maybe he’d just make a questionable fashion choice and wear a scarf tomorrow night. He definitely couldn’t let Cas down. 

As he let his mind drift back to Castiel, it inevitably led to thinking about his cock. He gave it a little nudge in his jeans, but nothing. He was far from in the mood again now. Maybe tomorrow he’d pick up some other girl. There were loads of them in his grade, surely one of them would be willing to have some casual sex? 

 

*

 

Castiel had rolled his eyes when the message from Dean had come through. No way was that boy going to stand him up tomorrow for the dance, because he sure as hell didn’t want to go already and it would be absolute torture going alone. All the ridiculous popular kids would be there, he knew, like Anna and Benny (who he still wanted to punch in the face), but he was sure Meg would be there too, and all she ever did nowadays is stare at him like he’d ripped her heart right out of her chest and it made him feel stupidly guilty for using her in the first place. He’d wondered if Dean was trying to get out of it, although he hadn’t seemed phased seeing Anna in school. 

He lay back on his bed and sighed, because he was pretty bored now that Dean had gone, although he _was_ still sporting a bit of a semi from where he’d seen his friend get changed a while earlier. He should have got up by now, and taken a cold shower if he wasn’t going to take care of it, but he could hardly bring himself to. What was the point? He was still feeling way too sorry for himself to get up just yet. He had a lot more wallowing in bed to do yet this morning. May as well have some fun first, he figured. It was Sunday after all. 

And so instead of getting up, he let his hand trail down, and shuffled his boxers out of the way. He slowly curled his long fingers around his dick and gave it just the slightest squeeze, sending a shiver down his spine. He thought about Dean, about that glorious fucking feeling he incited whenever his lips had been against his own. That got him interested. He dragged his hand upwards, slowly massaging his length and sucking in a deep breath at the sensations it released. He tried to imagine he wasn’t alone, tried to picture it as Dean’s hand on him or maybe Dean was just watching him, mouth hung slightly open and almost drooling at the sight. Yup, that was a picture he could get off to. 

He chewed his lip as he rubbed his thumb against the head of his cock and dragged out the precome, sliding it tantalisingly back down. He let out an accidental, teeny tiny gasp as he gave the base a tight squeeze, and started to pick up the pace. He could feel himself getting hot, could picture the beads of sweat forming on his brow and tried to remember what Dean had looked like when he was like this. Ok, this was gunna be over really soon if he kept thinking about things like that. The end was closing in on him, coiling like a tight spring ready to pop in his groin. He remembered the sight of Dean coming in his pants in class while he watched, how he'd looked so fucking desperate as it washed over him, and at the memory, he came himself, his come pouring out over his hand as he arched his back with the pleasure.

Cas was so fucking screwed. 

 

*

 

Dean had spent the following 24 hours hiding in his bedroom, leaving only to take a quick shower, dart downstairs for food when he knew John was out, and use the bathroom. He hadn’t let even Sam see him like this, but his obedient little brother had of course gone that morning, as always, to get the bus to school, assuming that Dean must have a free period or something. 

The more time he spent in his solitary confinement, the more Dean was sure he was going crazy. He couldn’t stop thinking about Castiel. All he could think about was that smile, and those eyes, and how much he was completely and entirely fucked. He’d had so many urges to text him or call him but he’d blow his cover if he did, and he knew Cas would be straight here if he thought he was in trouble. He thought about John a lot too. He’d actually considered killing him for a while. He’d designed half of a plan, had decided to find some sort of poison and spike his scotch, but then of course his police buddies would figure it out and he’d be thrown in prison. It might almost be worth if it kept Castiel out of the firing line, though. 

He was still mulling over this idea, staring up at the ceiling from his bed, when the door opened, and the friend that he was trying very hard to protect came waltzing in. 

“You got back early.” Castiel stated, sounding a little suspicious, before Dean could even process that he was here. 

“Uh… yeah?” Dean muttered, trying to keep his eyes from giving away his concern. He stared at his friend with blank confusion written across his features, terrified that he was about to notice the marks on his neck. 

“I figured you’d be back later and you’d meet me there.” He started, but Dean still looked completely confused. “Your light was on, idiot.” Cas said with a shrug, but he was smiling now, as he walked over to the bed. He’d sat down next to his friend before his smile instantly faded, and he looked away, suddenly pissed off. 

“Cas?” Dean said in question, when Castiel went quiet. 

“Hunting, Dean, really?” His best friend snapped, turning back to face him. There was anger behind Castiel’s eyes, and Dean felt himself backing away defensively. “You don’t have to lie to me, ok? I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on.” 

“You do?” Dean asked, face draining of colour. Fuck no. This was not happening. No way. Don’t fucking say it. If he knows then _why the hell is he here?_ Doesn’t he know what will happen if he comes home and finds him in here? 

“Tell me her name at least.” Cas said, suddenly quiet. He was staring at his hands, turning them over in his lap, and it took Dean a moment to realise that he had it completely backwards but he needed just a little more confirmation that he hadn’t worked out his darkest secret. 

“Whose name?” 

“The girl that left those hickeys on your fucking neck, you asshole. The girl who’s obviously the reason why you wanted us to stop doing whatever the hell it was we were doing.” Castiel all but yelled, and Dean found himself praying that Sammy hadn’t come home yet. 

He breathed out a sigh before he did anything else, because even though Castiel in fact _was_ a complete idiot (despite what he’d said), he was unbelievably relieved that he hadn’t been caught out. Instead of answering straight away, Dean pulled himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, because of course there was no girl but his friend didn’t know that, but wasn’t going to find that out either, so instead he thought he’d offer him some comfort for a while first. 

“I’m sorry Cas.” He said quietly, delay tactics, really, because he was sorry, sorry to the bottom of his fucking heart but he had to think up a name or something to keep Cas on the wrong scent. 

“I’m fine.” Castiel said irritably, shrugging Dean’s arms off. “I just don't like being lied to, not by you.” He complained. “I’m not so pathetic and fragile that you can’t tell me when you find a girl. I know things got a bit complicated between us for a while there Dean, but it’s not like I’m fucking in love with you or anything.” 

And ouch, that really shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Dean almost let his façade drop, just for a tiny moment, but he held firm. Castiel looked up to meet his friend’s eyes after he’d said that because he knew that was a bit harsh and it was the exact opposite of the truth, but if Dean was going to go around fucking girls and lying to him about it then he had to convince him he could still be in his trust. Cas wondered if he’d imagined the pain and sadness that rushed through his friend’s gaze, because there was no way it could be real. 

“What’s her name?” Castiel repeated, because it was all getting a bit too painful and he had to concentrate on something. 

“It wasn’t just one girl.” Dean lied, but Cas just nodded, believing him without question. He’d come up with a story so convoluted that it could have been the truth. It was a complete lie, but he knew Cas would never confront anyone in question, so it would remain the truth in his head. “The other week? When I hurt my rib or whatever?I know you already figured out I slept with Anna again. I guess I just missed her. We went to the shed and Benny caught us and he kicked me. So it was kinda my own fault because apparently they’re kinda together now. And then yesterday, someone else, and don’t judge me but I’ve forgotten her name. I didn’t come to school because of the hickeys.” 

“Right.” Cas sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He was hurting and it really sucked that Dean was already back to sleeping with girls, but that was just the way it was always going to be, he supposed. He had to be his friend first. “So how did you do yesterday? Looks like you put the moves on her if she did that to you.” 

Dean scoffed. “Don’t be an ass.” He nudged Cas lightly in the arm, and their eyes met for a brief moment where he could see all of the pain inside his friend and it was completely fucking destroying him. But better this than put him at risk of actual harm, and potential death. Without warning, he threw his arms back around his friend with such force that Castiel actually toppled backward, and they ended up laughing as Dean pinned him underneath his body. They were close enough to kiss, but Dean tried not to think about that, tried to think instead about how it made him feel when he saw Castiel smiling. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you.” He said truthfully, and Cas smiled, and freed an arm, stroking his thumb down Dean’s cheek. 

“It’s ok, just don’t make it a habit.” He smiled. “Are we going to go to this dance then, or what?” 

 

*

 

A little while after he’d left Castiel chattering comfortably away to this guy Bartholomew, who was apparently going to be his next stage buddy, Dean had wandered off with the intention of actioning his earlier plan, and searching through the available girls. He’d spoken to a few already, and had had to turn away from one because he’d noticed Anna nearby, but none of them had done it for him, not just yet. 

It took him by surprise then, when he turned and found himself face to face with a pretty brunette he didn’t recognise. Tessa, it turned out, had recently transferred from another school, and the look in her eye told Dean she was down for it. He was down for anything if it took his mind off the completely unrequited love he had for his best friend for long enough. He did talk to her, for a while, let her grind up against him while they pretended to dance, but he wasted no time in getting his tongue down her throat. She tasted way more alcoholic than he did though, so maybe it was a bit unethical that he let her lead him through to the bathrooms, (it definitely was) but it _was_ her idea at least. 

As she palmed his cock through his jeans, her tongue licking into his mouth, he was far from turned on. He did get a little interested, however, when she pushed away and dropped to her knees, fumbling hastily with his buttons and dragging his pants down before taking him into her mouth. He was still basically soft at that point, and it was a little embarrassing, but she was drunk enough not to notice or care. It felt good enough to get him hard pretty quickly after that. 

She blew him for a while, dragging her lips back and forth along his length, and it did feel good, really good, but he just wasn’t coming, just couldn’t. It was like it needed to be just a little different, just slightly nicer before he’d let go. He had tried, had willed himself to pour down her throat like she wanted, but it just wasn’t happening. But still, she hadn’t complained when he’d pulled a condom out of his pocket instead (because he’d come prepared tonight), dragged her black panties down her legs and shoved his dick up between her skirt. 

He did come, eventually. And even if she didn’t it seemed like she’d had a good enough time, although he felt super weird that she was now throwing up in the toilet. That was definitely consensual, right? Fuck he hoped so. He hadn’t meant to just violate her. He felt even more of a jerk when he slipped back out and left her to it, but he did find her friend and tell her she needed looking after, so he wasn’t a complete tool about it (not a complete one, at least). 

The sex had been passable, but hardly amazing. It hadn’t done much to take his mind off of his friend, who, he could see, was still deep in conversation about performing arts with his weird drama friends. If anything, the mediocre sex had just reminded him how good Castiel was at it, and that was far from ideal. 

Dean took another soda from the table, and spiked it with the vodka he’d hidden in a hip flask inside his jacket. He downed it quickly, looking around for further prey, but he became the prey, when a predator found him. 

“I’m Abby.” She'd said, after she’d squeezed his ass. “And you're Dean.” 

He’d just shot her a curious look because he’d seen her around, but never paid her much attention until now. She had reddish hair that reminded him of Anna’s, and tumbled in waves behind her back. Her breasts were round and pert and he could see most of them in that dress, and her painted red lips were large and just waiting for him. There was a glint in her eye that told him that’s all she wanted was just a quick fuck. And after the day he’d had, that’s all he wanted, too. Abby, he was into. 

“Abby is short for Abbadon.” She’d told him, after she’d spent a few minutes chewing on his lip and fondling his cock through his jeans. “My parents are super weird. I’m pretty weird, too. I always take what I want. And at the moment, what I want is you.” 

At least he was in no way going to violate this girl. If anything, she was violating him. But he let her lead him outside all the same, and he let her back him against the wall as she kissed him, and this felt nicer than Tessa but it still wouldn’t compare to Castiel. Castiel, who wasn’t in love with him or anything.

“Please Castiel.” He heard, and he wondered for a minute if he’d said it because he’d just been fantasising about Cas’s lips while Abby had kissed him, but it had been a female voice that had spoken. “Please just talk to me!” She begged. 

Dean dragged his mouth away from Abby for long enough to turn his head, and he could see his best friend, just inside, completely cornered by the ex-girlfriend who was starting to raise her voice. He raised his hands to Abby’s shoulders and pushed her gently, shooting her an apologetic look before rushing to Castiel’s side. Meg glared at him for interrupting their private conversation, but Cas seemed to barely even register he was there, just let him squeeze his arm in support. 

“Just tell me what I did wrong, please!” Meg pleaded, and Dean did feel sorry for her. She was obviously pretty far from Castiel’s type, given that she was the wrong gender. 

“It’s not that simple.” Castiel said, squinting his eyes closed and looking at the floor. Dean could see how uncomfortable he was feeling, wanted nothing but to pull him into a hug, but could see that would be fairly inappropriate right now.

“I don’t care how complicated it is, just tell me! You owe me that much.” She was crying now, and a few people who’d been passing had stopped to watch. Dean shot them dirty looks but they weren’t paying him any attention. 

“It wasn’t anything you did.” Castiel tried again, his hand coming up to rub his face. “And I don't want to say it like this but it wasn’t you, it was me, ok?” 

“Oh come on, seriously? You expect me to believe that? I want you back, Castiel, please, just give me another chance.” 

Oh god this was painful to watch. Cas was squirming where he stood and even Dean felt ridiculously uncomfortable, and he had hardly anything to do with it. At least one of Meg’s friends had come to her side now, to even the numbers. “No, Meg.” Cas said slowly. “It really is me. I just, I don’t feel like that about you…” He was careful to add the next part although strictly speaking it was a lie. “…any more.” 

And then of course Meg ran off crying, leaving them in the corridor with a crowd. Before Hannah turned to chase after her friend, she shot a glare at Castiel. “You should have at least done her the decency of breaking up with her in person. Who dumps someone over text?”

Don’t laugh at that, don’t laugh. Dean had to remind himself, because the idea of Cas spending hours (because let's be honest here, it would have taken him an age to grow the balls to do that) agonising over a text was hilarious. So if he had a small smile on his face when Cas looked up at him, that was an achievement not a crime. Castiel just rolled his eyes and let his friend pull him into his chest in an awkward sideways hug. And when the crowd had dispersed, they took a few steps down the corridor to a bench, and sat side by side, Dean looping his arm lazily around Cas’s back while his friend ran his hands through his hair. 

“Text though, Cas, seriously?” Dean grinned after a while, because he couldn’t hold in his giggling any fucking longer. 

Castiel shot him a glare as he straightened up and looked into his friend’s eyes. “I know I’m a coward.” He admitted. 

“You know you did the right thing though, breaking up with her.” Dean whispered in reassurance. “You were never going to feel like that about her.”

“I know.” Cas said quietly. He felt a little uncomfortable about Dean’s statement, because he knew that by now Dean had definitely worked out he was into guys, but they’d never actually talked about it, and he still didn’t want to face it head on. “I still feel bad though.” 

“She’ll get over it, I promise.” Dean smiled, although from his personal experience Castiel was incredibly difficult to get over. He’d just pulled him back into another tight hug when Abby appeared in front of him again. 

“Is he coming to join in the fun?” She asked with raised eyebrows, and while Castiel stared at them both in disbelief Dean looked at him like the invitation still stood. Cas narrowed his eyes at his friend then, and shook his head. 

“No… obviously not.” He said firmly, and Dean felt somewhere between relieved and disappointed, because if they’d had a threesome with her she wouldn’t have got a look in, but any excuse to get Castiel out of his pants was good enough for him now that he had a few vodkas under his belt. 

“Oh well, just you then.” Abby smirked, and with two hands on Dean’s collar she pulled, and brought him back up to kiss him again. He shot Cas an apologetic, surprised look, but Cas grinned as he waved him off, even though inside it was killing him. 

 

*

 

He’d spent that whole night with Abby, at her place because her parents were away. He fucked her a couple of times, and it wasn’t quite as good as Anna, way worse than Castiel, but it was a million times better than it had been with Cassie or Tessa, so he counted that as a win. She was a bit crazy though, and she’d actually freaked him out on occasion. He wasn’t convinced he wasn’t going to be murdered in the night. And he’d told her as much, to which she’d just laughed.  But he hadn’t complained when she woke him with a blow job, he supposed. And it was better than the one Tessa had tried to give him, so there was that. 

It was with relief though that he made it back to his street the next day, and he didn’t put much thought into where he was headed before he knocked on Castiel’s door, thankful that it was him that answered and not his mom, who might have questioned whether the marks on his neck actually were just hickeys. 

Dean tackled Castiel onto his bed as soon as they’d reached his room, and his friend laughed as he fell backward with Dean’s arms all around him. Dean took his hand to Cas’s cheek and they smiled at each other for a while, letting the sensations of just being together wash through them. It was so much easier than with other people. And how the hell could he not be in love with that face? Dean thought. Cas looked so beautiful right now, staring back at him. 

His thoughts turned a little darker though, when he recalled the conversation they’d had the day before, and how blatantly Castiel had told him he didn’t feel the same way. He was still reeling from that particular conversation, although it had _definitely_ not had an effect on his actions last night. But of course, Dean thought. He should tell his friend all about his night, because Cas didn’t love him back, so it wouldn’t hurt him to hear, and he’d only get pissed off if he kept it from him.

“So we had a fairly interesting night last night.” He began, feeling a bit nervous about telling his friend. 

“We, or you?” Castiel raised an eyebrow. 

“We!” Dean defended his choice of words. “You seemed to be getting on alright with that Bartholomew guy despite the fact that everyone says he's an ass, and you can’t say that having a showdown with Meg _wasn’t_ interesting.” 

“Not the word I’d use for it, but ok.” Cas shrugged. “So come on, tell me about yours.” 

“Ok, but first, are you alright?” Dean asked, and Castiel was touched by how much he obviously cared. 

“More or less.” Castiel replied, but the truth was that he was far from ok, and hearing Dean talk all about the fantastic sex he was sure to have had with that weird Abbadon girl wasn’t going to do him any favours either.  “I don’t want to talk about it, so just tell me about your night.” 

“Alright.” Dean sighed, but his arm tightened around Castiel’s waist. “I did something bad last night, Cas.” 

“What did you do?” Castiel had narrowed his eyes. 

“I fucked two different girls.” Dean chewed his lip, because he was kinda bragging but also kinda mortified. “The first girl was really new, I’d never even seen her before. Tessa. And she tried to blow me but she was shit so I fucked her, and after I’d… y’know, finished, she threw up.” 

And even though it was hurting to hear what he’d done with other girls Castiel couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Were you so bad that you made her vomit?” He chuckled, because he was just teasing. He knew that Dean was pretty good at that stuff, actually. 

“Alright, don’t be an ass.” Dean complained. “I actually felt really bad after, because she was so drunk, but she took me to the bathroom, so…” 

“The bathroom, classy.” Cas commented, and when Dean shot him a very pointed look he went a bit pink. “Ok, I know I can’t talk.” 

“You definitely can’t.” Dean grinned. He thought about how that would always be one of his favourite memories, Castiel fucking his face in the school’s toilets. “But for the record, I very much enjoyed our time in the bathroom.” 

Castiel was caught between a smile and grimace. “Don’t say stuff like that.” He said firmly, because it was hurting to remember those times, particularly when Dean was right here and there was nothing stopping them but feelings. “Don’t… it’s weird.” 

“Sorry.” Dean whispered, and Cas rolled his eyes and forgave him instantly, because he looked so damned sad about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, it doesn't get any lighter from here, but if you've read Breathe then you know that already. You know what you're letting yourself in for! 
> 
> I've actually finished this now (say what?), got to just under 90k words so a fair bit still to come. Sorry about the weird ass chapter lengths but its the only way it makes sense in my brain!


	12. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Cas.”

As his relationship with his best friend turned progressively more strained again, Dean became incrementally more snarky and irritable with him. Not to mention he was almost clinically depressed where he was so fucking heartbroken that despite everything, despite literally fucking everything he’d thought he’d felt and seen in Cas he still didn’t actually love him back. Because all of it, all of the risk, the pain and the sneaking around would have been worth it if at the end of this he got to be with him properly, but now? Now it had all been for nothing and he couldn’t even bear to think about it.

So that was probably why, on the following Thursday night, before their long weekend break from school that he would be spending with Castiel and Evelyn at their lake house for his friend’s birthday, he found himself knocking, alone, on Anna’s door. Not, as you might think, because he wanted anything to do with her, but because he was really, _really_ drunk right now, and someone had told him at school that she was having a party, so here he fucking was, ready to be the life and soul of it. 

He wasn’t, of course, but even though half of the party guests were royally pissed off at him for yelling at them a month or so ago, he couldn’t care less, because he was buzzing right now. To him, everything was hilarious and all of the girls were completely beautiful, and if someone had given him a cigarette that tasted different to the tobacco he’d tried in the past then it was just making it all better, because now he was chilled as well as super happy. 

Even happier, when Katie had come over to sit on his lap, when she’d wrapped her lips around his beer bottle and made him wonder what they might feel like around his dick. He’d been more than happy to slip a finger inside of her when he’d pressed her against a wall in a darker area of the room. There were enough people there that no one was looking at them, and the moan that she got drowned out by the loud music. 

And he’d got hard too, when she slipped a hand under his waistband and teased his cock. He’d backed her against a wall and kissed her wildly and filthily and he knew Benny had seen him at one point but the kid was no threat because he’d never _actually_ done anything to hurt him except for be a bit of a dick to talk to, that was just the story he told his friend, remember? 

Dean  was well aware why Katie was doing this, knew that she was trying to get back at Benny for ditching her for Anna the moment she was single, but it didn’t stop him from slipping his cock inside her when she took him upstairs to Anna’s bed. He’d panicked for a little while, as she rode him, because he couldn’t remember if he’d put on a condom, but when he came and it all stuck to him he knew that he had. 

When Katie redressed before leaving, she looked in the mirror, and Dean knew that it was on purpose that she’d left her top so dishevelled, so as to make a point to her friends. He didn’t care much, because it hadn’t been about her so much as about the sex and trying to forget for two damn minutes how much his heart hurt. But he was a bit disappointed that she’d left, if he was honest. He was ready for a second round. He just wanted to feel something for a while longer. 

So when he went back downstairs and his eyes found Ruby, drinking alone in a corner, her blonde hair hanging around her breasts, he went straight to her, because, as he recalled, she had been involved with Benny too, and maybe he could clean them all out tonight. Hell, he might even try it on with Anna again after, although she was shooting daggers at him right now. 

Ruby too, let him kiss her, let him make it to second base within the confines of the living room, but she just seemed more reluctant, and he figured that maybe he should give up. He was on the verge of doing so, when his name was called behind him. 

“Dean.” Castiel was watching him with those irritatingly judging eyes, and pursed lips that made him look like a school teacher who was scolding a class of unruly students. Dean pretended he hadn’t heard (although to everyone who was paying attention it was quite obvious that he had), and kissed Ruby again, just to make a point (and maybe to try and make Cas just a little jealous). 

But to his surprise, Cas wasn’t having any of his shit, not tonight. A firm arm went to his shoulder and pulled him backwards, practically tearing him off of the girl. And if Dean had seen the anger in Castiel’s eyes he might have actually realised that his friend was in fact extremely jealous at that moment. Cas marched him out of the house and into the backyard, and when they were out in the cool air he just glared at him with fire in his eyes. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Castiel shouted. “Why are you being such an ass!?” 

Dean just stood there watching him, unsure whether he was going to break down in tears or shout back, (or come in his pants, because Cas was incredibly fucking sexy when he was angry). 

“Dean!” Cas yelled, trying to get some response out of his friend, but when Dean just looked back at him like a rabbit in headlights he sighed, screwed up his face in annoyance, and shook his head. 

“Fucking hell.” Cas breathed, and he took a step closer to Dean, reaching out and doing the buttons back up on his jeans where Ruby had obviously had her hands on him. He had noticed that Dean was hard, despite himself, but he was absolutely fuming right now, and that was the last thing on his mind. Until Dean grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, and pressed his erection right up against his own cock. Then it soared pretty high up the priority list. 

“Ok, ok.” Cas whispered, shuffling his ass so their dicks were no longer touching, because he didn’t need that sort of problem right now. “Come with me, yeah? Let’s go home.” 

Castiel had been absolutely sick with worry when Sam had called him, asking if he’d seen Dean because he’d found an empty vodka bottle in his room and there was no sign of him. He’d called his cell, but Sam had answered that too, and he’d realised that his idiot best friend had left it behind whether on purpose or not. He’d made a few calls to other friends before someone mentioned Anna’s party, and it had hit him like a ton of bricks because he knew he’d be there. 

His friend had been so weird this week, so off with him, so out to destroy his liver and his reputation. This week he’d been living like he didn’t care if it was his last, and Castiel was terrified. He didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change in pace, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

They walked a few blocks before Cas had calmed down enough to have a rational discussion, and when he turned Dean had tears on his cheeks, and he felt suddenly guilty for having yelled at him, because whatever was going on he was obviously going through some stuff. His hands went out to him automatically, and Dean let his head rest on his friend’s shoulder while he cried, while Cas rubbed small circles into his back. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Cas.” Dean admitted after a while. Cas felt his heart throb, and tightened his grip on his friend, grounding him. “I fucked Katie tonight.” 

“Don’t you mean Ruby?” Cas whispered, until it hit him that he meant Katie also, and suddenly he was almost crying himself. 

Dean shook his head where it was still on his shoulder, and told his friend the honest truth (for once in his life). “I don’t feel like I’ve got anything to live for.” 

“What?” Castiel exclaimed, shocked and chilled to the bone. He pulled back to look Dean in the eye. “You’ve got everything to live for, you asshole. Don’t you dare give up on me now. I know your home life sucks, I know that. And I know that you’re not exactly top of the class but fucking hell Dean, you’re my favourite person on this planet. Just look at you. You’re smart and funny and you’re beautiful, inside and out. Please, just live for me at least. Because I don’t know where the fuck I’d be without you.”

And great, now they were both crying. And that might have been a little bit too personal, a little bit too much like a confession but there was at least a hint of a smile now on Dean’s lips so maybe it didn’t matter. Dean’s hand came up to the back of Castiel’s neck and he held him close, held their foreheads together. Castiel knew that they were clutching each other way too close for it to be normal, but he squeezed him back and held on, because if he had his hands on him like this then he couldn’t go anywhere. His heart jumped out of his chest when Dean closed in, and he stopped breathing with shock when his friend’s lips touched his own, and before he knew it they were kissing, fucking drinking each other because they were each the elixir the other needed in order to survive, but Dean let out such a growl when he ground his hips forward that Cas snapped out of his reverie. 

“Stop, Dean, stop.” Castiel whispered while he caught his breath, breaking away and getting his own cock back under the control of his sensible brain. “You’re drunk.” He said, as if that was the excuse. It worked, at least. It was much easier to admit that than what was, let’s be honest, the very pathetic truth, that Dean felt so fucking sorry for him (and was so ridiculously horny) that he'd even kiss him at the moment to keep him happy. 

"So?" Dean complained, and Cas had to turn his head to stop their lips connecting again, because even though he wanted it more than fucking anything, he was not that much of a charity case. 

"So you're not thinking about what you're doing." Castiel said firmly, placing his hands on his friend's cheeks and holding him still, forcing their gazes together. Dean's resolve faltered after a few moments and he dragged his gaze away, looking instead at the floor, because he was still trying not to jump Castiel's bones even given that he'd just been rejected. 

Sighing, Cas pulled him back into a tight hug while he grappled to get his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick message to reassure Sam to Dean's number. Poor kid had been worried. Hell, right about now he was worried too. He held Dean a while longer before they started to walk again, and there were no questions from his friend when he led him up the path to his own house, putting a finger to his lips in hopes that Dean would stay quiet (his mom was in bed and he'd snuck out an hour or so ago, it was now the early hours of Friday morning). 

When they reached his room, Dean's hands rubbed at his pink cheeks and he stood there awkwardly, looking forlorn and unsure what to do next. It was killing Castiel to see his friend like this. He had no idea where this sudden bout of self hatred had sprung from, particularly given how successful Dean would say his week had been. But somehow he was aware that it wasn't about that, that actually, his friend took no pleasure in the sex he'd been having, that it was just an unfortunate side effect of his self loathing. After pulling off his jacket and jeans, Cas stood there for a few moments just watching his friend, letting himself come to terms with how broken he really was, because right now it was radiating off of him in waves. 

It didn't take long before Castiel could no longer bear the sight, and he crossed the room, letting Dean fall easily into his arms again. Despite his aching heart and all the promises he'd made himself he pressed a kiss into his friend's temple, where his head hung limp on his shoulder, and it brought a smile to his lips when Dean nuzzled toward the sensation, so he kissed again. 

"I love you, Dean." Castiel said in earnest. He knew exactly where that was coming from, he just hoped Dean was drunk enough not to remember it. What he hadn't expected though, was Dean's reply. 

"No, you don't." His friend muttered, and the head that had been gravitating towards him snapped back in hiding. 

Castiel furrowed his brow and cast his mind over the last few weeks. His friend's erratic behaviour had started before he'd said that stupid thing, hadn't it? Before he'd tried to save face by denying his feelings and hiding in the fucking closet for a while longer? Why was Dean being touchy about that, when he didn’t feel the same anyway? Unless… unless he did feel the same, but he was trying to get it out of his system. _No, don’t be ridiculous_. Castiel sucked in a breath and refused to get his hopes up. Dean had started lying to him before that, so it definitely wasn't the problem. But, he supposed, he could reassure him nonetheless. He was sick of lying about it anyway. 

"I do, Dean." Cas sighed, and he brought Dean's gaze up to meet his own with a firm hand cupping his cheek. "I love you." He repeated. He was relieved to see the smile that came to his friend's lips at his confession.

And the smile shone bright, because right now Dean could actually feel it, could feel the strength of the connection between them coursing through his veins like it was written in his blood. He let it wash over him, the glorious sensation, and although he couldn't tell how Castiel loved him at that moment he believed that he did, because he could feel it soaking through his skin. It left him feeling guilty for the way he'd been behaving, but he could make it up to him now. 

They stood for a few minutes just holding each other, staring into each other’s souls with small smiles on their faces. Dean was still drunk of course, really, completely blind drunk, and he’d probably be swaying on the spot if Castiel wasn’t holding him firmly still. Cas just kept looking at his best friend, kept trying to read into the secrets hidden within his grassy eyes and understand him completely. He was well aware that friends wouldn’t normally hold each other for so long. 

Castiel wondered what Dean was doing when his hands crossed over his body and grabbed at his t-shirt, but when he pulled, and tossed it over his head, leaving his scarred abdomen bare for Cas to see, he began to understand that Dean wanted to feel closer to him, so he let him - when Dean’s hands went to his own shirt - drag his off too. And it did feel nice, pressing their skin together. It felt right and natural and all the things it probably shouldn’t. Cas was aware of the hard on Dean was still sporting, but the moment for him was beyond a sexual experience, he just felt completely overwhelmed by how much they cared for each other. 

When Castiel finally let him go a short while later, Dean looked a bit put out. But he smiled and nodded when Cas explained that he was just using the bathroom, that he’d be back in a minute and they’d go to bed. While brushing his teeth Castiel stared at himself in the mirror, wondering for the umpteenth time how his life was so completely dictated by Dean Winchester. The guy just had that effect on him. Like his fingers were permanently caging Castiel’s heart, threaded around it to squeeze when he was happy or hurting, controlling him so easily. He splashed some cold water on his face when he’d spat out the toothpaste, and braced himself to the best of the abilities as he stepped back into the room. 

Even though it wasn’t the first time, Castiel was taken aback by the sight of Dean’s naked figure. Why his friend had decided to strip off butt naked in the first place was beyond him (and he was completely naked, socks and all), but the sight before him was far from unwelcome, if unexpected. Particularly considering that persistent erection that was standing there in all its beautiful glory. Cas chewed his lip and looked quickly away, because he didn’t have it in him to process that image right now. Dean was lucky he hadn’t jumped him already. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asked curiously, shooting Dean(’s face) a pointed look. 

“Going to bed.” Dean answered, his voice a heavy slur. 

“Do you think maybe you ought to go and… uh… take care of your problem first?” Castiel said, his cheeks burning at the thought and the suggestion. But his friend either hadn’t heard or didn’t want to, because he pulled back the comforter and gracelessly dropped into the bed, letting his eyes close almost instantly. Cas watched him for a while as he changed out of his day clothes and dragged pyjama bottoms up over his ass, but Dean seemed comfortable at least, and after a while, he’d fallen asleep. He was hesitant to climb into bed with his naked best friend. He knew what Dean might think come the morning, but at the same time, he wanted to feel him again, all of him. 

So he crept in, careful not to disturb him, and switched off the light. 

 

*

 

Castiel had hoped that the next time he woke it would be because the sunlight was filtering through his curtains. He had hoped that Dean would be hungover and that his friend would have very limited recollection of the previous night, that he might just laugh off being caught naked. 

It was however, in slightly different circumstances, that Cas found himself rousing only a few hours later. 

There were small sounds escaping his best friend’s lips that sent a shiver down his spine and blood into his cock. Dean was moaning, only quietly, but obviously enjoying whatever mental images he was having. There was a gentle _tap tap tap_ of skin on skin that was picking up pace, and when Cas realised that Dean was jerking off in bed behind him, he felt his dick go solid. 

He should stop him, or at least tell him to get his ass into the bathroom, because there’s no way this was ok. He’d made his mind up to do just that, but when Cas whispered his friend’s name he didn’t even flinch. Perhaps he was still drunk? It seemed unlikely that he wouldn't have been disturbed if just drunk, but then he’d never seen him quite so inebriated before. Cas felt his cock throb as he wondered if his friend was having a wet dream. 

It was definitely not the right thing to do, but he did it anyway, completely unable to resist. Castiel rolled, slowly and quietly onto his side, and turned his head, taking in the absolutely fantastic sight of Dean with his hand wrapped around his cock and erratically pumping. He could have been asleep, his rhythm was all over the place, and Cas had to resist an incredibly strong urge to help him out. Dean was getting there on his own, he could see, his cock was leaking and he probably wouldn’t be long. 

Cas pressed, hard, on his crotch, squeezing some pressure to alleviate the tension. He wasn’t going to do anything to take care of this, there was no way he could get out without getting caught watching, and he didn’t want to miss the show. Besides, if they both woke up the next morning with dried come on them then Dean would definitely think they’d been up to no good in the night. But he had to bite down on his lip and hard, when he watchedDean’s lower back drag up and his friend moaned out a release, coming all over his hand. _Fucking hell that was so fucking hot._  

He wasn’t sure what to do when Dean’s dick throbbed out the last of his come, but when he heard him stir, he slammed his eyes closed and went rigid. There was no way Dean could know what he’d just witnessed. 

“Shit.” He heard Dean whisper as he came to his senses. “Ugh… fuck.”

 In the silence, Castiel heard his heart beating loudly and was sure it would give him away. Dean’s mind was going wild, wondering what the hell had just happened and why his cock hadn’t been in Castiel’s mouth like he’d just imagined it should be. His head was still spinning, and he was still completely, _totally_ drunk. Where was his friend? He wanted Cas. 

“Cas!” He called, turning his head and smiling at the realisation that Cas was, in fact, in bed with him. He lifted a hand to his friend’s chest and gave him a slight nudge, before realising that his fingers were covered in come and wincing. 

Beside him, Castiel opened his eyes, looking at him with a partly confused and partly grossed out expression when he regarded Dean and his dirty hand. What the hell was Dean playing at, waking him up? He’d been hoping he’d stay go quickly to sleep so he could sneak into the bathroom and take care of his own problem. 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, still slurring his words. 

“You’re in bed.” Castiel stated, not wiling to divulge any more information. 

“Why is there come on my hand?” Dean looked confused, and Cas had to swallow. 

“Not my fault.” Cas insisted, looking away. He would have much preferred for it to have been his fault. 

“Did I…? Oh fuck, sorry.” Dean muttered when the realisation hit home, and although it was dark and Castiel couldn’t see, his cheeks went red. He went to sit up, but his head spun and it made him feel like he was going to puke, so he lay straight back down. “Oh god, I’m so wasted.” 

“Here.” Cas said quietly, as he reached over to his end table and pulled out a few tissues from the box. He handed them to Dean who looked at him gratefully, and started to wipe himself off, incredibly unsuccessfully. Cas watched him trying for a few moments before sighing, unable to believe he was about to do this as he took the tissue from Dean’s hand and pushed it away, cleaning him up himself. 

When he was done, Cas found himself unable to meet Dean’s eyes. Instead, he climbed over his friend and locked himself in the bathroom, placing a hand on his cock when the cold tap water did nothing to calm him down. He felt only shame as he jerked himself off quickly and roughly, catching his own mess in toilet paper. And when he did eventually go back to bed, Dean was sound asleep.


	13. “I have got you to live for.”

 

After the two boys had woken the next day to Evelyn’s knock on the door, Castiel had been relieved to find that Dean’s memories of last night were hazy at best (or so he’d been told). His best friend had been mortified at waking up naked, but Cas had laughed it off and they’d said no more about it. 

The hangover however, was something else. Dean felt extremely nauseated and his whole world was spinning wildly. It had taken everything he had to go and collect his bags from his house and ensure that Sammy had indeed managed to make plans to stay out for the whole weekend, and the prospect of a long car journey was not one he was looking forward to. But luckily, always there to save the day, Castiel took the back seat with him, and suggested that he lie down with his head in his lap, which actually helped. Horizontal was the way forward this morning. 

They spent the best part of the day in the car, and Dean was incredibly relieved when they finally parked up at the lake house they had been coming to once or twice a year since they were little. It was the only true vacation he’d known. He didn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t think about the one that his dad had taken him on. 

As they climbed out of the car and stretched their cramped, tired legs, the two boys went to the trunk and automatically started to unload the bags into the little house. It was cosy, a timber clad construction with just two bedrooms and an open plan living / kitchen / dining area. Dean loved the sight of this place, because it was filled with happy memories, and every step brought back a new nostalgia. He was smiling as he walked around the house, dropping bags into their respective places, but he had noticed that his friend wore a more contemplative expression. 

He shot Castiel an eye when they filed up to their room, dumping their luggage on the double bed they always shared when they were here. Cas looked back at him thoughtfully, mulling things over in his head. He hadn’t wanted to turn it into a big deal, really, he hadn’t, but he couldn’t get the words his friend had said the night before out of his head. Dean had scared him with his show of instability, and for once Castiel was looking at him in the knowledge that he was completely and utterly broken. The friend that was so confident and cocky in school, who’d somehow managed to sleep with four different girls in the last week alone, had done so because he felt so empty. 

They didn’t speak, but after a short staring competition Dean sighed and dropped his gaze. He had been hoping, somehow in vain, that Cas wouldn’t want to bring it up. Despite the substantial level of inebriation he’d been displaying the night before, he had been lucid, and the memories he’d probably happily have forgotten were still in his head. He remembered everything, from fucking Katie, to his talk with Castiel, to his dream. God, why did he have to remember that too? 

When Cas shot him an apologetic look Dean knew they were on the same page at least, and he nodded, leading the way back downstairs and mumbling an excuse to Eve about going to find some logs for the fire. The older woman could see the look on their faces, and knew better than to point out that the wood store was fairly well stocked. It was obvious to her that in the last few months the dynamic between the two boys had shifted. Her revelation had been helped by the unusual sounds she’d heard one night coming from her son’s room, the ones she’d not been able to block out with ear plugs or the pillow over her ear. 

Dean didn’t want to talk, but then he never did. He would much rather have brushed it all under the carpet and pretended that the whole thing had never happened. It wasn’t like he could tell the truth anyway, so the whole thing just ended up being a huge web of lies, and recently he was adding to the pile like he was enjoying it. They walked, side by side, to the far edge of the lake before Castiel opened his mouth. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asked unexpectedly. 

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “Less like I’m going to throw up, anyway.” 

Castiel laughed. “Good, because mom’s brought us some beers, so we can have a few tonight if you think you’ll manage them.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Dean smiled. He didn’t actually like how much he’d been drinking recently. Alcohol meant more to his father than he did, and he didn’t want to exploit a genetic predisposition for addiction, but it was numbing his pain and that was what mattered. He just hoped that wasn’t his father’s excuse, too. 

“Are we going to talk about last night?” Cas turned suddenly to face him, and Dean furrowed his brow. 

“Not now.” Dean stared at his feet as they came to a stop. When he looked up to finally meet Castiel’s eyes he had to look away almost instantly, because this conversation was apparently happening whether he liked it or not. But then, maybe he could distract him a bit. His hands went to his back pocket and pulled out the little package he’d found in it this morning. Cas watched him curiously as he unwrapped the two joints he’d smuggled from the party and held one out to him. 

“Is that…?” Castiel trailed off, taking it from Dean and inspecting it closely, while his friend put his in his mouth and held a lighter up to it. Cas watched the smoke billow from him as he blew it out, and was relieved that the taste of the air around it was earthy and milder than tobacco smoke. He put his own joint to his lips and Dean lit it for him. 

Ten minutes later and the mood between them was entirely different. They felt happier and lighter and if their hands had fallen into each other’s as they’d laid down in the grass then it was definitely not a big deal. After trying and failing to blow a smoke ring, Castiel had laughed and applauded when Dean finally succeeded. He wouldn’t admit that the shape of Dean’s mouth as he exhaled was a turn on. He couldn’t stop laughing for long enough to admit it. 

They lay together for a while, watching the shapes the clouds were making now the sun was going down and commenting on the one that looked like a smiley face. _This._ Castiel thought. _This is how we’re meant to be._ He deflated a little when he thought about the night before, but there was a new brightness in Dean’s eyes when he turned his head and he was praying that his friend now had more hope than he had done. 

“Did you mean what you said?” Castiel asked abruptly, and Dean let his gaze drop while he contemplated his response. 

“I don’t know, Cas. Maybe?” He paused, he knew better than to plead ignorant. “But whether I did or not, you were right. I have got you to live for. You and Sammy.” 

His admission brought a smile to Castiel’s lips, his eyes lifting as his cheeks did. Cas tightened his hand around his friend’s fingers in reassurance and relief. Dean’s words sent his mind wandering. He still felt guilty about what he’d said the weekend before, because even if his love was unrequited and Dean didn’t feel the same way, he still shouldn’t have lied so outrightly. His friend deserved to know the truth. It wasn’t like he didn’t suspect anyway, Cas was sure.  

“We’ve both said some stupid things recently.” Cas whispered, a knowing, pointed look in his eyes. Dean furrowed his brow momentarily, as if trying to understand and recall what Castiel meant, because surely he couldn’t mean _that_ , could he? Unless he did. Because before then Dean had been so sure that he wasn’t alone in this, that his feelings weren’t inappropriate or unrequited, that Cas wanted him, too. And after their conversation last night, he’d felt loved. Was that why Cas wanted to talk? Was he admitting that he did love him? 

A wary half smile formed on Castiel’s lips and Dean suddenly felt the conviction to test his theory. He dipped his head low, and grazed his lips against his friend’s in the gentlest of touches. Castiel pressed back, and left him a slow, single kiss. Dean smiled as he pulled away, but his thoughts soon darkened, because this was the problem in the first place, wasn’t it? They still had almost a year to last before he was free. 

“This can’t turn into a regular thing again.” Dean said quietly, although his dick was protesting because he’d have given anything at that moment to be able to say otherwise.  

“Ok.” Castiel sighed, resigned. He’d figured as much. It seemed likely to him that Dean had originally called it off to protect him, because he’d realised how deep Cas was in. But he could handle it, couldn’t he? He knew what the deal was now, knew that this was just a one way thing but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other, did it? He lifted his head to stare at the clouds again for a few moments, before turning back to meet Dean’s eyes with raised brows. “Couldn’t it be a right now thing?” 

Dean’s lips contorted into a grin and he snorted out a laugh, staring at Castiel incredulously. The weak wall he had up around his desires suddenly grew and impounded, trapping the sensible portion of his brain. He looked into his friend’s eyes for a minute or so before he pulled their lips together again, and let out a light groan when Cas pushed back against him. They broke apart with a pant while Cas shuffled closer.

“Don’t make this weird.” Dean muttered between kisses. “This doesn’t mean anything." He lied.  "But we _are_ both fucking good at this and I do _really_ want to feel your cock in my mouth.” 

He could feel Castiel smiling through the kiss even with his tongue inside him. His friend pulled back abruptly and looked him dead in the eye. “Who said anything about _my_ cock in _your_ mouth?” He said with that wicked glint in his eyes, completely serious. 

 _Oh Jesus._ Dean could have come right there, Castiel was so ridiculously fucking sexy. His cock twitched and ached as Cas climbed on top of him and wriggled lower, and bent over his crotch, undoing his jeans _with his teeth_. How the fuck did he even do that? Dean still struggled to undo Castiel’s buttons even with two hands. He was happy to lift his ass though when his friend’s hands went to his hips and dragged his clothes down, letting his dick bounce up to meet the cooling November air. 

Castiel watched him while his tongue darted out and began to lick at his head, circling around it tantalisingly. One hand came up to the base of his cock and squeezed him right into fucking heaven, while that tongue went up to the slit and pressed down, lapping him up. Dean was moaning at the sensations his friend elicited. _Oh fuck. Oh god. Oh fucking hell Jesus Christ fuuuck._ Dean could hear, but he wasn’t sure when those noises were coming out of his mouth because he couldn’t remember giving them permission. 

After a year, because it must have been a whole year of complete torment, Castiel suddenly engulfed him, and Dean was immediately lost in his warmth. His friend’s other hand was on his balls and the gentle tickle was leaving him writhing while he tried not to blow his load already. Cas was sucking, hard, on his head and with the combination of that and the squeezing on his base and the fingers on his balls, he was completely screwed. 

As Cas rocked his head the fingers on his balls dipped under, arriving quickly at his hole and circling around it with conviction. Dean spread his legs eagerly, Cas shifting to move his knees between them as he continued to suck and tease. Castiel’s hand disappeared suddenly and his lips popped off from his dick, and Dean was moaning at the loss while catching up on his breath, watching as his friend sucked on his finger in an attempt at lubrication. He bent back down quickly and the finger wasted no time in pressing into his ass while his mouth went back to work. 

With a thrust of his fingers Castiel dragged back along his prostate and holy crap he was so done with this boy and his freaky fucking sex magic. He was so close already, pure pleasure erupting through him with every lick on his cock and pump into his ass. Cas was groaning too where he was enjoying himself so much and Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever recover, he was completely paralysed by his need for this boy and his magic mouth and fingers and cock. He wanted his cock so badly. Wanted to be fucked. 

Cas pressed into his prostate again and Dean was lifting up with how close his orgasm was getting. His friend let his lips slide down more of his length and he picked up his pace and that was all he needed, Dean exploded, calling out his name and a string of unholy curses as he poured out, spilled inside his best friend and succumbed to the blissful fire. 

He panted as he came down and Cas continued to clean him off with his tongue. The fingers slipped gently out of his ass and he missed them terribly when he was left empty. As his friend lifted straight back up to kiss his lips again Dean could taste his own come, and it felt wrong but kinda kinky, so he didn’t complain when Cas let his lips fall apart and pushed his tongue back inside of him. His friend’s huge erection was against his leg and Dean wasted no time in dropping his hands to his buttons, fumbling (of course) until they were opened and he could push them out of the way. 

Dean took Castiel’s dick in his grip and Cas moaned as he began to thrust. His friend turned, tipping his weight into the grass and turning away from him to improve both the angle and the risk of dirty clothes. He was already whimpering as Dean increased his speed and only a couple of minutes passed before Cas was riding out a wave and shaking his come out into the grass while Dean kissed his hair from behind. 

When Cas turned back towards him, cock still out and leaking a little, Dean smiled and kissed him deeply. He’d have sucked the come from his dick, but they didn’t have time for round two, Eve would already be wondering where they were. Maybe later, he thought as Cas licked into him, maybe this could turn into a weekend deal. 

 

*

 

Later that evening the three of them were lying across the couches, watching a movie Dean wasn’t hugely interested in. Eve was practically asleep, lying on one couch in the corner of the room, and her son and his friend were lying together on the longer sofa. Dean was more interested in the feel of Cas’s body pressed against his back, of his friend’s arm around his middle, than the movie playing on the screen. All he actually wanted was his friend’s cock inside his ass, but that wasn’t the kind of thing you could ask for without the admittance of something else, and the marijuana had worn off by now, his confidence with it. 

So instead, he tried to concentrate on the movie, tried to understand why people in horror movies always, _always_ go towards the creepy sound instead of away from it. Although, he supposed, if he heard a creepy sound here he’d probably check it out. It wasn’t that he didn’t like horror movies, he wasn’t scared or creeped out or a coward, but for someone that was constantly on edge, constantly beaten and abused, there were always too many reminders within them. He couldn’t keep paying attention to it. 

Looking away, he let his mind run wild while he thought about their earlier choices, and he couldn’t decide if that had been the best decision of his life or the worst. He really loved Castiel. Utterly and completely. He always wanted to know what it felt like for him to be pressed against his back, wanted to remember forever how safe and calm and happy this boy made him feel every single second that he spent within his arms. Maybe he just wanted the dream to carry on for a little longer. 

Dean turned slightly, rolling almost onto his back and letting his head roll back to meet Cas in the eyes. His friend’s hand came up to brush a hair from his forehead and he smiled, now completely convinced this was what he wanted. 

“Cas?” He whispered, so quiet that Evelyn definitely wouldn't hear. When his friend answered with a gentle hum he swallowed. “What we did earlier… maybe it could be a, just this weekend, thing?” 

When Castiel didn’t answer, Dean’s confidence faltered. His friend just looked at him with a million questions and protests in his eyes, and maybe he was right, maybe it was too risky and they were both sure to get hurt again but wouldn’t it be worth it? He didn’t have it in him to argue his case, so instead Dean just turned away again, letting his friend mull it over in his own time. He wouldn’t expect an answer, but if he got one it was a bonus. 

A few minutes passed and the silence had turned from comfortable to awkward, and even though Evelyn was yawning and almost asleep she could sense the tension in her boys. She had half a mind to get up and leave but she figured it might be obvious if she didn’t wait a while. Her son, meanwhile, was having trouble remembering to breathe. He still clung to Dean but his grip around his middle was weak, and while he wanted it, wanted Dean with everything in him he was so scared, because it had been hurting so badly in the month or so since they’d stopped doing it. It hadn’t gotten better. It hadn’t gone away. But bringing it back now would only be false hope, wouldn’t it? 

If it was just sex, he could handle it. If he knew definitively that Dean didn’t want him and that this was just some fantasy he was allowed to act out, he’d be ok. But his friend was so confusing, his words so mixed up and his actions so completely different from what his mouth suggested, that Cas had bubble wrapped his heart to stop it from coming into contact with him. If he pulled off the protection now… what would be left of him come Monday? 

He’d all but made up his mind to say no. To tell Dean it was getting weird again and that it wasn’t worth the risk, but his dick had other ideas, and as it filled with blood and pressed against his ass, Dean pushed back against it, and it was all he could do not to moan aloud. So he supposed this was happening, then. May as well make the most of it. Just think of it as a fantasy. He lifted the comforter a fraction.

With one finger, Cas hooked Dean’s shirt up an inch, and stroked it up and over his hip, lightly teasing his stomach as he hovered just a few centimetres from his dick. He let his hand drift lower, and clamped it down over Dean’s cock, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of his sweatpants and relishing in the sharp intake of breath from his friend (that luckily coincided with a murder in the movie). He gave it a gentle rub, eyes on his mother who was still obliviously watching the screen. Dean’s hand came to join his own in an attempt to still him, but he persisted, applying just the softest pressure as he waved his hand on him. Dean pulled his cell phone from his pocket, making sure his friend could see the screen as he typed out his message. “Don’t u dare. Not with ur mom here.”

Castiel had to hold back a laugh, because he’d never dream of it with his mom in the room, but he obviously had that reputation already. He’d earned it, after that time at school where he’d let himself live out one of his slightly kinkier fantasies. This was Dean’s idea, after all. So no, he’d just keep him nice and ready until his mom was upstairs asleep, and then they’d have their fun. 

Another hour passed in absolute torture and Dean was sure he was in hell himself by the time the end credits rolled on the movie and Eve stretched herself out, ready to take herself up to bed. At some point Castiel’s hand had slipped under his sweatpants, was separated from his cock only by the fabric of his now damp boxers, and still he was continuing to torment him, stroking him with fingers, rubbing, applying light pressure, all of it was just a complete tease. 

“Are you boys coming up now, or shall I leave the lights?” Evelyn asked, completely oblivious to what her son was doing under the blanket. 

“I think we’ll watch another movie.” Castiel said decisively, and Dean just nodded, smiled and waved as Eve wished them goodnight and climbed the stairs. 

They waited a good five minutes before either made a move, but when they heard the door to Evelyn’s room click closed, Dean let out the groan he’d been holding in, and turned immediately to face his friend. Castiel had a devilish grin on his face, and Dean had half a mind to punch him. He thought it might have been better if he _had_ made him come an hour ago, because his dick was painfully hard and he just needed to come like right this minute. 

As he rolled, Dean pressed his lips instantly to Castiel’s, and the other boy was still smiling as he let Dean lick into his mouth. Dean ground his hips against Cas and the pressure was so much better than Cas had allowed him so far, he was whimpering from the sensation. Cas moved his hand to his hips to steady him as they kissed, but in truth he was feeling needy now too, and where Dean’s cock had pressed against his it was throbbing angrily. 

“Slow down.” Cas commanded seconds later, when Dean had pushed past him and thrust forward again. Dean looked at him like he’d just shot a puppy, and Cas grinned again, grabbing onto Dean’s sweatpants and pulling them down with his boxers in one swoop. “Unless you want to come in your pants again.” He added. Dean was blushing furiously at the comment, but he afforded Cas the same treatment, as he dragged off his pants too. 

As soon as his cock had been freed, Cas took them both in hand and rolled before he pumped, climbing over his friend as he began to work them in his grip. He couldn’t allow any mess, not here.  It might have actually been more discreet if they had come in their pants. Dean’s head had lolled back and his mouth hung slightly open, his chest inflating with shallow gasps as he pushed closer to his climax. Cas watched him come undone, felt him begin to shudder and twitch but he wasn’t quite there himself and he needed them to do this together. 

“Hold on.” He whispered, and Dean looked up at him, eyebrows raised like he had a fat chance of that being a reality. But Dean tried, truly, and somehow he managed to push away the wave that was waiting for him while Cas got close himself. He was hanging on by a thread that was getting thinner by the second and he was going to drop without notice. Castiel was almost there, was panting in his breaths and could feel the coil of tension in his lower back that was about to spring apart. He looked down, could see how much it was taking for Dean to cling on and the commitment  in his friend’s eyes was what sent him over the edge. Castiel succumbed, and he took Dean down with him. 

The sound of footsteps on the stairs had them staring at each other with wide eyes, and Castiel began to panic, not knowing what to do or how to clean this up in three seconds. Dean had their come all over his t-shirt, they were both half naked, and the comforter and their clothes had been tossed across the floor somewhere in the lust. 

Dean was the first to react. He pushed up and knocked Cas off of him, leant swiftly over and grabbed the comforter, throwing it back over their asses and scooping their pants under the couch. He turned, and pressed against his friend’s chest, grimacing at the squelching sound. He slammed his eyes closed, and while Cas was still panicking, he seemed to understand that he was pretending to be asleep. 

“You haven’t chosen a new movie yet?” Evelyn said as she passed them. 

“Dean fell asleep.” Cas smiled, praying he didn’t look so red as he felt. Even if he did she didn’t comment. His heart was racing uncontrollably, and he could feel his friend’s pounding against him too. He was so not ready to be caught. He was so far from out, and had no idea what his mom would say when she found out he was gay. She wasn’t exactly old-fashioned, but he was her only son. Dean knowing was one thing, but his mom? Other people? No. Not yet.

“I’m just getting a glass of water. I’ll leave you to it.” Eve smiled.  

Castiel smiled as his mother retreated back upstairs, and the two boys paused for a lot longer than the first time before they risked moving. When Dean did eventually pull back to look into Castiel’s eyes he had that look that said, _holy shit that was close_ , and Cas agreed. He shook his head lightly out of disbelief and Dean let a weak smile form on his lips. He shifted back gradually, looking down at their soiled t-shirts and grimacing. 

“Sorry about that.” He whispered. “I couldn’t think any quicker.” 

“She’d have found us naked if it wasn’t for you.” Cas said simply. He put his hands down to the hem and pulled his shirt up over his head, making sure to fold it inwards so as not to get come on his face. Dean did the same and they tossed their dirtied garments onto the floor. 

After a long pause, Cas began to chuckle under his breath, and despite throwing him a dirty look, because really that could have been the death of them both, Dean grinned, and lifted his head up onto his best friend’s chest, revelling in the warmth of being pressed against another. They lay like that for a while, happy in each other’s embrace, and after some time, snuck naked up to bed, where they spent the night tangled with one another. 


	14. “Just one for the road.”

When he awoke to the light filtering through the venetian blinds, Castiel watched as it caught and illuminated falling specks of dust. His arms were still firmly threaded around his friend, both boys still completely naked, and Dean had his head buried against his chest, soft breaths tickling his skin. Cas let his chin rest in his hair, wondering what he’d done to deserve such a calm awakening. If he could have chosen a way to wake up every day for the rest of his life, this would be it. 

At the press of Castiel’s lips in his hair, Dean stirred, his own mouth curling into a natural smile as he let his head tilt back to meet Cas in the eyes. Cas was looking down at him, watching him with what Dean had now realised could only be love. The realisation had been exhilarating yesterday, but while he was still overjoyed that his friend did in fact love him too, it made his temptation so much worse. Just this weekend, he’d bargained with himself last night. Just allow yourself this one weekend, and draw a line under it. He only had to last another year. One more year, and he could get out. One more year, and maybe they could do this safely. Maybe. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Dean teased, and while Cas was flattered and enjoyed the compliment, it had quite clearly overstepped their (ok, very confused) boundaries. “I’m just kidding, Cas.” Dean grinned. “Except…” He leaned up and captured his friend’s lips against his own. Castiel kissed back with warmth, but there was some hesitation there too. 

As Castiel pulled his lips away from his best friend’s he smiled, eyes lighting up with it. The happiness made him even more gorgeous. “So I take it you still want to do this thing this weekend?” He chanced, offering Dean an out in case he was about to do something stupid again. 

“Unless you’ve got any problems with it.” Dean replied, and for a moment he looked nervous. But when there was no issue forthcoming he let a cheeky grin light up his face. “I mean, you are a passable kisser.” 

“Passable?!” Castiel protested, pretending to be offended. He wasn’t quite sure what Dean was doing, why he was so obviously flirting with him this morning, but he wasn’t complaining, either. Maybe… no, surely he didn’t have feelings for him, too? Maybe this was just practice flirting to go with everything else. “If I’m a passable kisser, then you’re terrible.” 

“You saying you’re better than me, Novak?” 

“Clearly, Winchester.” 

Dean scoffed. “You might be a better actor, I’ll give you that.” Castiel rolled his eyes, grinning. Dean was well aware of his talent. “But kisser? Nah.” 

“Don’t bullshit me, Dean.” Castiel laughed. He was getting more confused by the second but he was happy to let Dean goad him if it was going to lead to something good. 

“Prove it then.” 

And, well, that was a challenge that Castiel simply couldn’t resist. He jumped at the chance quickly, pressing his lips onto Dean’s with heat and passion and trying to make him feel all of the things he had to feel every damn day. Dean let out a shocked little moan when he prized his lips apart and darted his tongue quickly inside his mouth, licking into him and exploring fully. Cas could feel all of him in that moment, from the heart that was pumping erratically, to the way his skin was becoming flushed and hot, to his cock, filling up against his leg. 

Castiel pulled suddenly back, and gave Dean a look to say that he’d made his point. Dean groaned at the loss of the body against his, and his eyes narrowed, lips settling into a pout. Cas looked his friend in the eye with a smirk that faded with the realisation that he may have proved a point, but he’d definitely lost a battle because he wasn’t getting out of here alive after that. Not after looking down and seeing the way the covers had been pushed off and hung around Dean’s legs, giving him an excellent view of his very swollen dick. Dean’s eyes were dark with desire when he next met them, and Cas narrowed his, too. 

“You’ve asked for it now, asshole.” Cas whispered, hand returning quickly to Dean’s hip. Dean’s eyes quirked up as his lips pulled into a dangerous smile. 

“I love it when you get riled up.” He teased, and Cas was so fucking done with his shit. He crashed their lips back together and felt Dean come apart as he moaned under his pressure and his heat. Their bodies pulled against one another and the friction was sending a shiver down his spine. Castiel let his hand trawl down Dean’s side as he continued to kiss him passionately, but before his hand could reach its target…

“Boys! Breakfast!” Came the call from down the stairs. 

Dean was the first to pull back, and Cas reluctantly let him, pressing their foreheads together instead as they caught their breath and tried to calm down. 

“Later?” Dean said suddenly, his hand coming up to cup Castiel’s cheek and stroking softly. 

Cas smiled. “Later.” He agreed. 

 

*

 

They spent the better part of the day out on the lake. They were far enough south that even though it was November it was still (just) warm enough to swim, and the two boys had hardly left the water. Castiel felt lost. On one hand he was happy and enjoying himself, letting his friend tease him and flirt with him and falling every second more in love with him, but on the other hand he was indescribably hurting, the knowledge that this would all end the moment they got home destroying him internally. 

“Hey.” Dean said, waving a hand in front of Castiel’s face to get his attention. Cas had just zoned out for a moment where he was treading water. His friend blinked, and looked back at him almost startled as he snapped out of his reverie. Dean grinned, his gaze drawn inexplicably to his friend’s pink lips. He couldn’t stop looking at them today, couldn’t stop thinking about what they felt like against his own. He’d have kissed him senseless again by now, but Eve had been lounging by the lakeside with a book and they hadn’t been spared a minute completely alone. 

When Castiel’s dick twitched inside his shorts, he looked away. But when he glanced back up and Dean was still just staring at him he rolled his eyes, and pushed his hands forward, sending a cascade of water into his friend’s face. Dean spluttered the lake water out of his mouth while Castiel laughed, and narrowly avoided a return attack, the water splashing in a ripple behind him. 

“You’ve asked for it now, Novak.” Dean grinned, his hands finding his friend’s shoulders and wrestling him under the water. Castiel seemed to have had the same idea too, and both boys found themselves dunking under the surface, but they were still laughing when they emerged back up, each with one hand still on the other. 

“I’ll race you to the boat.” Cas suggested. There was a small wooden dinghy and a pair of oars on the side of the lake, that occasionally they would use for fishing, or just generally messing around in. It had capsized more times than they could count over the years. Dean’s eyes lit up at the idea, so he pushed against his friend and swam quickly away while Castiel complained and struggled to catch up with him. With his cheating head start, Dean reached the edge of the lake quickly, standing out of the water and walking (uncharacteristically) gracefully along the algae covered rocks of the lake’s edge. 

“Seems like I’m also the better swimmer.” Dean taunted as Castiel finally caught up and stood. His heart pounded as he watched his friend’s muscular abdomen rise out of the lake, dripping wet, his nipples hard nubs that he desperately wanted to suck on. Castiel was completely gorgeous. And he was definitely going to jack off to that image at a later date. Cas was still rolling his eyes when Dean spoke again. “Be careful on the rocks, they’re slippery.” 

“If _you_ didn't fall Dean, then I’m not going to.” Cas said with a laugh on his lips. Dean rolled his eyes, although his breath caught a little at the sour reminder of his reality. He was unsurprised, though, when after a few steps forward Castiel slipped, one leg sliding up into the air. He would have landed straight on his back if Dean hadn’t stepped towards him and caught him with an arm around his waist. Cas looked shocked as he was pulled effortlessly back upright, Disney princess style. 

For a brief moment, all that mattered was how close they were. Dean was completely caught up in his friend, lost in the eyes that had all the hidden desire in them that he was feeling himself, taken by the press of Castiel’s chest against his, by the legs between his own. Dean’s gaze trailed down to Cas’s lips and he was overcome with lust, and Castiel had to swallow whilst he watched him, because he was so close to ripping his friend’s shorts off right about now. But he didn’t forget himself, either. They were probably still just about in his mother’s visual field, and so instead, Cas begrudgingly looked away with a coy smile, and let Dean lead him off of the rocks. 

They climbed into the boat and Cas relaxed back while Dean rowed them around for a little while, but before long, Castiel was beginning to get fed up of the rock hard cock in his shorts. It had barely let up since the morning, and every time Dean flirted with him or teased him, or just looked at him in that stupid and unhelpful way of his, it just became more of a problem. He knew Dean could see it, too, he knew his friend had noticed because he wasn’t even bothering to try and hide it. He didn’t even care any more that it crossed a line, because he was done with lying and done with pretending. Dean knew he wanted him, so what was the point? Just this weekend, they’d said. So that included right now, didn’t it? 

Dean was all but licking his lips at the sight of Castiel’s boner. It was giving him a strange sort of confidence, the knowledge that _that_ was all because of him. He’d figured out now that he needed to do something about it, because his own cock was throbbing against his leg and where he was starting to dry off he was feeling a little sticky. He’d planned a route, and was taking them off into a far corner of the lake to where the water extended behind some tree covered land and would afford them some privacy.

When he was happy that they were out of Evelyn’s sight, Dean jumped quickly out of the boat, shocking his friend who was thrown to the side as the dinghy rocked in his wake. Castiel peered over the edge of the wooden boat and eyed him suspiciously as Dean resurfaced, pushing his hair back out of his face. Dean grinned at his friend’s expression, and swam a little closer to the edge of the lake while Cas picked up the oars and followed him. 

Now that he could comfortably stand, Dean reached out for the boat and pulled it the remainder of the way toward him, enjoying the confusion in his friend’s eyes when he brought it to a gentle stop just in front of him. He outstretched, and his hands gripped on to Castiel’s shoulders. He gave a gentle squeeze while Cas watched him with that tilted head and half smile, and as Dean leaned in to press his lips against the other boy’s, his hands went to his neck and his cheek. 

Castiel moaned at the realisation of his desires. The noises he let out were throaty and unstoppable, and he felt Dean shiver against him and clutch him tighter for his effort. Cas pushed suddenly back, just enough to clamber awkwardly out of the boat while Dean still held onto him, and as he lowered himself into the water he was pulled immediately and firmly against his friend’s body, another deep groan leaving him at the contact as their crotches pressed against each other’s. 

“I can’t wait for later.” Dean explained breathlessly, spitting each word out between desperate kisses.

It was driving him completely fucking wild, but for once Cas took the backseat, let his friend take charge. Dean wasted no time in dropping his hand down to his crotch and at the first squeeze on his erection he wondered if he might explode, but he held on, thrusting against his friend and being rewarded with a lusty gasp. It was too much, but not enough, and he was sure Dean whispered an _easy tiger_ when he ground his hips forward a few times in a row. It didn’t take long before his shorts had been shuffled down and he felt sort of weird about being naked in the lake but he needed this more than anything right now so he didn’t complain. His fingers found Dean’s dick too and he squeezed him a few times before he freed it, and then suddenly they were pumping each other with their lips entwined and he was so fucking blissfully happy. 

All Dean could do was groan at the sensation as Castiel jacked him slowly off. He was desperate for more, for more speed, for more pressure, and yet he knew from the way the water was slowing his own arm down that his friend was held back and unable. He felt close, really close, but he wasn’t sure he could get there without that bit extra. He pulled his lips back off of his friend’s and rested their foreheads together, watching the agonising desire in Castiel’s features. He could feel it too, he knew. He also needed more. 

For a few minutes he tried different things, tried squeezing the base of his friend’s cock, tried fumbling with his balls, but while he was rewarded with a few little groans Cas was still very much prevented from his relief. So instead, he pulled their hands away and thrusted forward again, gasping at the extra firmness as their dicks rubbed against each other, and with Castiel’s help they picked up speed and suddenly he was hurtling forward towards the end. 

His friend’s mouth hung open with desire and he was almost drooling as he began to twitch, his climax imminent. Dean watched with determination as Cas began to suddenly shudder, and he looked down at his cock as it spilled out, letting out a long string of come into the water around them. The sight of it, of him, was enough to send Dean over the same edge, and with a final firm thrust forward he came too, licking back inside his best friend as it all washed over him and he spasmed out with the pleasure. 

“I definitely think I’m better at _that_.” Castiel teased when he’d caught his breath. His lips had found their way to Dean’s ear and he was chewing on the lobe as he spoke. 

“You saying that was bad?” Dean asked incredulously, because every orgasm he had with Cas felt like an absolute dream come true. 

“I’m just saying I can do better.” Cas whispered, completely seductive and entirely unfair. Dean was almost hard again. 

“Whatever, you hardly lasted two minutes.” Dean protested, although it really had been about ten, and his lips settled into a grin. 

“But I could have if I’d wanted to.” Cas insisted. “I bet you I can hold on longest, next time.” 

And that was a challenge Dean was happy to take part in. Hell, he’d have gone back for that cock now if Cas hadn’t pulled his shorts back up already. His own were still down by his thighs, his cock still caressed by the water. “Ok.” Dean said quietly. “Tonight, we’ll test your theory.” 

 

*

 

If Evelyn thought it strange that they retired to bed way earlier than they usually would have considering tomorrow was Castiel’s birthday, she didn’t mention it. She might have been suspicious that their relationship was evolving but she certainly wasn’t aware that actually, her son just wanted to skip to the part where he could put his friend’s cock in his mouth again. And so, after making some vague excuse about how they must be tired because they’d spent almost the entire day in the lake, she wished them goodnight. 

Almost as soon as they were alone, Dean pounced, dragging Cas against him and letting out a quiet moan as their lips met again. He didn’t know how he was going to stop, when this weekend was over. Castiel’s tongue prized his lips apart with ease and as he circled him inside Dean felt his dick twitch to attention. His friend felt it too, because he smiled into the kiss, and with his two hands on Dean’s ass pulled him forward, grinding them together. When Dean let out another little groan, Castiel’s hands dragged up to his chest, and pushed him slowly away. 

He looked a little put out when Cas pulled his lips off of him, but Castiel just smirked, and dipped his fingers into his pocket. They reemerged clutching a stopwatch, and Dean’s eyebrow raised quizzically, because it was kind of a turn on and kind of intimidating how seriously Cas was obviously taking his earlier bet. Plus, if he was honest, they both knew there was no way in hell he was going to win this round. He couldn’t pretend to be anywhere near as good at this stuff as Castiel was. 

“Strip.” Cas said suddenly, voice quiet but demanding. Dean was practically drooling at his tone, and when he’d dragged his shirt over his head he let his fingers drop to his jeans, and he prized the button and zipper apart slowly, trying to tease Castiel even a little. But his friend just watched with this emotionless expression, and somehow his confidence was even more alluring than if he’d been begging for it. So Dean spared him the games and stepped out of his jeans and boxers, because he was the one who needed Cas to touch him _like right this minute_. 

Dean lay back on the bed at Castiel’s command, and his cock twitched a little at the bossiness his friend was demonstrating, because he loved this side of Cas. His friend climbed over him, spread his legs for him, and all Dean could do was lie there and swallow while his fully clothed friend looked him up and down. 

After the visual inspection, Castiel smiled, a teasing, wicked smile that was more _I’m going to ruin you_ than it was _you’re going to enjoy this._ Dean had to chew his lip to keep from begging, because this whole situation was blowing his mind and Cas hadn’t even done anything to him yet. 

The deft fingers that Dean wished were inside him were still gripping onto the stopwatch, and Cas raised it up as he hit the start button, and before Dean knew it his desires were being realised, because Cas had plunged his lips down over his length, had tossed the stopwatch to the side and was using one hand to stroke the rest of his cock while the other was making its way underneath him. That finger, that treacherous digit, pressed inside without another moment’s notice, and the whole thing was so intense and had completely overwhelmed him so quickly that he knew he was never going to be able to hold on. He was going to blow his load in probably sixty seconds and counting if this assault continued in the way it was. 

Castiel was sucking, properly sucking at his head, rewarding him every now and again with a lick of his tongue against the slit, bobbing his lips, fast, along his length while his hand complemented at the base. Cas pushed another finger inside of him and Dean was almost crying out. He grabbed a pillow and held it in front of his face because games aside they couldn’t get found out over this. His toes were curling up like Anna’s had done a few times and he knew he was almost done for. That heat was hiding behind his eyes, a volcano about to erupt. 

There was a long string of incoherent noises escaping his mouth, not quite muffled by the pillow, a steady hum of _uhhhh_ surrounding the air. Castiel knew his friend was close to exploding, because he could feel the pulsating of his cock against his lips that meant he was almost there, and the speed was only increasing as he moved more rapidly. Cas dug his teeth behind his lips to provide that extra pressure, and Dean was done for. His fingernails scraped against the bedding and might even have torn the fabric. He lifted up, held down only by his friend as the rush claimed him, and he felt Castiel pull off of him as he started to come, and he had no idea why but the hand carried him through the aftershocks. 

As Dean came down, he dropped the pillow, grimacing at the drool he’d left on the cover. He had a relaxed smile on his lips when he opened his eyes, and as he looked up at his friend his mouth hung open once again, because for whatever reason Cas had made him come over his face, and the sticky white was dripping off of his cheek. If the refractory period hadn’t been an issue he’d be hard again already. 

“Four minutes and thirty three seconds.” Castiel smirked, as if nothing was different. He just shrugged when Dean could only stare at him, mouth wide open and still drooling. “I just wanted to try it, ok? Just hand me a tissue.” 

Dean just did what he was told and tried not to freak out over how much he'd liked that. Because that was definitely not something that he’d have thought Cas would have been into. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d like it if it were the other way around. But his friend never failed to surprise him. He was a complete enigma. And, he reasoned, Cas was definitely not any kind of straight if that was the sort of thing he wanted to try. Should that worry him more than it did? What if Cas was in just as deep, here? 

“Come on then, your turn.” Cas grinned, rolling onto his back. Dean snapped out of his daydream for long enough to turn and look properly at his friend. Cas was looking back at him with lust and love and the strength of it made it all Dean could feel, too. So he leant over and kissed him. He kissed him passionately and fiercely and tried to make him feel how much he wanted this, how much he was loved. 

He didn’t waste much time before his hands reached down to Castiel’s pants and pulled them down, smiling into the kiss when Cas wriggled himself the rest of the way out of them. That perfect, glorious, swollen cock sprung out, and Dean could have hit his friend when he raised that fucking stopwatch back up, a shit-eating grin on his face as he hit the start button. That was that, then. Foreplay over. His hand darted straight down for his dick and took it quickly into his grip, beginning a quick rhythm with firm pressure, because that’s how he’d do it if he ever needed to get off quickly. 

It did cross his mind, the idea of putting his fingers between Castiel’s legs, but somehow it just didn’t seem right. Just like how he wouldn’t feel right putting his dick up there. It wasn’t them. If it was ever (and he prayed that one day it would be) able to happen, then he’d want Cas to fuck him, hell he needed it. He did however slip a hand down to lightly tickle his balls, and Cas arched back a little at the touch. He decided to take it further, then, and while still roughly pumping he lowered himself down, and darted his tongue out to lick at the skin of his sac. 

Castiel was the one moaning now, but he had a better hold over himself than Dean had ever had, and he was fighting it back, the wave, because he was going to win this fight no matter what. Not that it was really about winning, he just wanted to have the one up on his friend, because if he was better at this then maybe Dean would want to come back. 

The other boy was starting to shake under him now, and Dean had sucked a whole ball lightly into his mouth while Castiel was left whimpering. He wouldn’t be long now, he knew. He’d probably already lost, though, it felt like it had taken way longer than four and a half minutes already. Shit, maybe he’d just pull out the stops now, because Cas was worth it. Dean looked up to meet his friend’s desperate gaze and Cas looked like he was struggling, because the little shit was probably, no definitely, holding out on him on purpose. So he’d make it that bit more difficult. Dean lifted his head and opened his mouth, holding it right in front of his dick as his permission for Cas to blow his load in there. Cas gasped at the sight right before he let go, because there was no fucking way he could resist that, and he came, hard, right into his friend’s mouth. 

Most of it dripped straight back out over Cas’s legs, but what remained in Dean’s mouth he swallowed down, and he licked out over his chin to catch what he could. Cas watched in awe, shaking his head, because that was about as low a blow as he’d pulled himself and he hadn’t known Dean was capable of being so fucking seductive. 

He did, however, remember to squeeze the stop button on the stopwatch, and he smirked when he held the timer back up to his friend. 

“Eight minutes and fifty seven seconds. Bad luck Dean.” He grinned, but his friend just rolled his eyes, and collapsed down next to him. In a moment of uncertainty and madness, Cas grabbed him, and pulled their lips together again, confused at the fact that he didn’t hate the taste of his own come. He pressed himself hard against his friend, and after a few minutes of a passionate, desperate kiss that he never wanted to end, he did begrudgingly let go, letting their foreheads rest together instead.  

Dean just felt overwhelmed while he looked into his friend’s eyes. He felt simultaneously completely happy and completely heartbroken, because he knew this couldn’t last and yet it was bringing him more pleasure than anything ever had. He felt warm and safe, yet cold and in danger. And Castiel, poor Cas just looked completely confused. 

“So you want this to end tomorrow, huh?” Castiel said after a while of silence. It had obviously taken him time to pluck up the courage to broach the subject and Dean just felt overwhelmingly guilty about having to let him down, _again._  

“It has to.” Dean whispered in response, his fingers coming up to brush against his friend’s cheek. 

Castiel leaned into the touch. “Does it?” He said, almost irritably. “Why?” 

He hadn’t asked for a reason the first time, and Dean wished more than anything that he hadn’t now, because what do you say when everything he thinks he knows is a lie? What do you say when he’s been right all along but you have to deny everything to keep him safe? How do you tell him you don’t feel the same, when really you’re so in love with him?

Dean went for the cowardly option, and he hated himself for it. “Because someone will end up getting hurt.” He said, and he knew exactly how Cas would take it, he knew that Cas would think he didn’t feel the same and was just trying to protect him. He _was_ trying to protect him. But not from his feelings. 

Castiel just chewed his lip and lay back against the pile of pillows in thought. He was quiet for so long that Dean was worried he was upset, and yet when he looked up he was just staring up at the ceiling, an almost peaceful expression on his face. Perhaps he was an even better actor than Dean realised. 

A short while passed in silence before Dean looked over at the clock, and when he realised it was ten minutes past midnight he smiled, because that meant it was Castiel’s birthday, and this year he could give him a kiss. He leant up and pulled their lips back together, and while Castiel was more hesitant than he had been during the rest of the day he did kiss back with warmth. 

“Happy birthday.” Dean whispered when they broke apart, and Cas tilted his head with a smile, because in the lust of everything he’d clean forgotten. Dean leaned over the bed and dipped his hands underneath it. “I got you something.”

Castiel smiled, even though the only gift he could have wanted was for Dean to be his. He eyed his friend curiously though, when he placed a small package on his lap. “You really didn’t have to.” He said, because they didn’t normally do proper birthday gifts and this felt really personal. Particularly given that they were both naked. But his eyes lit up and his heart warmed, lips curling into a smile when he opened up the gift wrap. Cas looked down at the wristwatch in the paper with admiration, and he didn’t know how he didn’t cry at that moment. 

For the best part of the last four years, whenever they’d walked to school or town or back, they’d passed this little antique shop on the way, and almost without exception Cas had stopped to admire this watch in the window, with a large marble face with old-timey roman numerals, and a strap of thick brown leather. He’d never really understood what had drawn him to it, but he’d always loved it, and had it not been for the three hundred dollar price tag he'd have bought it a long time ago. 

“Dean.” Was all Castiel could manage without crying. His friend was just watching him, a smile on his lips, because seeing him so happy was worth the money. He’d haggled the price down a bit too, he’d had to. Because for a long time he’d had some money saved from where he’d help Bobby out every now and again at the shop, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough for an apartment or a car and every time he got close he’d somehow lose a hundred dollars, a withdrawal on his account that was no fault of his own. He’d started keeping his money in cash instead, but that would get sidled away too, no matter where he’d put it this time. Someone had to pay for his father’s drinking habit, after all.

How he didn’t tell Dean he loved him at that moment Castiel would never know. He’d never understand how he didn’t beg him to reconsider. But for all his doubts and worries he knew one thing, that he and Dean were inextricably bonded, and he was loved too. Perhaps not romantically, although the signs did seem to point that way. But then maybe Dean just needed time. And maybe, he thought, just maybe, one day he might be ready. 

“I thought you could wear it to your auditions.” Dean said quietly, and Castiel nodded despite the fact that the familiar nerves were bubbling up under the surface. It was what he wanted, what he’d always wanted, and yet when he’d received the letter offering him an audition for his first choice of drama school he’d found himself completely terrified. Because what if he wasn’t good enough? He hadn’t planned for anything else, and he’d given this everything. And what if he _was_ good enough? What if he became successful and famous? What would happen to his friend? Would Dean come with him, or would he lose him forever? He couldn’t bear to be without him. 

But instead of voicing all of his worries and doubts, Castiel smiled. He smiled at the sentiment and the thought and buried his head against Dean’s neck instead. He let himself drown in his senses because he had to remember this, needed to know what Dean felt like and smelled like and looked like at this moment, just in case their days were numbered. 

 

*

 

Castiel had only been asleep for an hour or two when he woke up to the sound of sniffling. He furrowed his brow, his hand fumbling in the bed for his friend, but Dean wasn’t next to him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes from the sleep and confusion, and his eyes narrowed when he spotted Dean leaning against the window sill, head in his hands. He had no idea what was going on in Dean Winchester’s mind recently. He was all over the place. Laughing one minute, and apparently crying the next. Castiel was completely lost. For a brief second he would let himself believe that Dean loved him too, and then he’d be pushed away a moment later. He knew it was a struggle, hell, he was still going through it himself, and he wasn't sure he was ready either. It had hardly been easy for him to come to terms with who and what he wanted, but if that’s what this boiled down to for his friend, Dean was dealing with it badly, even for him. 

Regardless, Cas lifted himself out of bed without a second thought, and crossed over to his friend, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and pulling his body against his own without resistance. Dean let himself be held for a while, his head resting against Castiel’s chest. He couldn’t have held the tears back if he’d wanted to. And somehow he was ok with this, because he had to let Cas see that this was hurting him too, that he wasn’t feeling peachy while Cas was struggling. He had to make sure he could tell that he wasn’t ending this because he wanted to. 

After a few minutes and a tender kiss pressed into his hair, Dean let himself be led back into the bed, and with Castiel’s arm around him he smiled as he looked into his friend’s questioning blue eyes. He was grateful for the silence he’d been allowed so far, but Cas had that look, and he knew the interrogation was about to begin. 

Castiel opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure where to start, his mind rolling with possibility. His heart throbbed painfully, because he knew what had to be done. Maybe he hadn’t been fair, letting Dean carry on with this when he so obviously wasn’t ready for it yet. It was going to suck, going back to being friends for a while, but perhaps if he allowed him some time he’d be able to salvage this at a later point, if Dean did decide he wanted him in the future. That small chance was better than pressing him now and destroying their friendship forever, right? He still needed Dean, in whatever shape or form he was happy to allow him. 

So it was with regret that Castiel opened his mouth. “We should stop.” He whispered, his fingers rubbing circles on Dean’s bare waist. His friend looked up at him with tears in his eyes, but he looked grateful too as he nodded his head once. Dean’s arms clutched him tighter, and Castiel was pretty damned close to crying himself when the pink lips he so often dreamed about came up to press once against his own. 

“Just one for the road.” Dean said softly when he pulled back. And Castiel was done for, and his tears spilled out over his cheeks despite the smile he was forcing onto his mouth. Dean watched him sadly, holding him tight and pressing their foreheads together.

“I never want to lose you, Dean.” Cas choked out between shallow sobs. Dean smiled sadly, his fingers coming up to wipe his friend’s tears from his skin when he’d have rather kissed them away. 

“You won’t, Cas. I’ll always be here. Always.” 


	15. “Do you remember?”

“Dean, when did you have your first kiss?” Sam asked, and Dean’s eyebrows raised up curiously. What the hell? They’d just been playing video games for the last hour, how come this was turning into a heart to heart? Dean turned to look at his younger brother, and the kid looked embarrassed. His cheeks were pink and he was chewing down on his bottom lip. Dean supposed this wasn’t the sort of stuff he could talk to their dad about, after all. Sammy and John had an incredibly volatile relationship, which Dean frequently paid for. 

“Uh, I dunno, I guess I was about fourteen? Probably about your age?” Dean shrugged. “Why, you thinking about her again, Jessica?” 

If it were possible, Sam blushed even harder. He shrugged too, trying to act cool, but Dean knew from the way he was suddenly badly losing their video game battle (and Sam was always way better at fucking Rainbow Road so there was no way this was coincidence) that his brother was nervous. 

“You don’t need to be scared, Sammy. She definitely likes you too.” 

“You think?” 

“I’ve seen her looking at you. She gets just as pink cheeked as you do.” 

“I do not.” Sam protested, but when Dean shot a glance at him he was smiling like a happy little idiot. Oh god, if only his brother knew how bad he actually was at the whole, love and relationships thing, if he knew how much he was always screwing up, there was no way he’d come to him for advice. 

“You just need to talk to her.” Dean said a minute or so later, putting his controller down and accepting his sixth place victory. Sammy had somehow just managed to come back from twelfth to come third. Bastard. The Nintendo was doing that thing again though, where it whirred and made that odd noise. It was age old, and probably close to exploding. Dean stood and switched it off.  “Tomorrow, at school, ok? Find me at lunch, and I’ll come with you if you want.” 

It was easier now Sammy was in high school too. Easier to keep an eye on him. 

“Thanks, Dean.” 

 

*

 

So that was how he ended up sat on a high level of the bleachers the next day during their lunch hour, peering down to where Sam was acing it and chatting happily away to the pretty blonde girl he’d had a crush on even before he’d hit puberty. 

Dean smirked to himself, rubbing his arms against the chill and wishing he’d had the foresight to grab his jacket out of his locker before following them out here. Sam had been so confident, or so he’d seemed at least. Dean had seen the nervous little twitch of his eye, but Jessica, who didn’t know him so well, would never have guessed. He’d strolled up so casually with his brother, and taken the seat opposite her in the cafeteria like it had his name on it. _Hi._ He’d said. _I’m Sam._ Dean had beamed when she’d nodded, and said _I know_. 

When he heard his name being called, Dean turned his head, and his lips adopted an automatic smile at the sight of Castiel climbing the steps towards him. He greeted his friend with a hello when he was joined, and Cas looked down curiously at the younger pair beneath them as he took a seat next to his friend. 

“How is he doing?” Cas asked, because he’d figured out by now why he hadn’t seen Dean or Sam in the cafeteria, he’d been worried when he hadn’t spotted either of them. He’d been caught up in preparations for the next school production so he’d missed the first half hour of their lunch break. Their absence made sense now. It was common knowledge that Sam had been crushing on Jessica since forever ago.

“He’s doing great.” Dean smiled, and as he turned his head to look at his friend he had to suppress a grimace, because it was so fucking hard to look Cas in the eye recently. In the few weeks that had passed since their trip to the lake house, Dean had slipped back into survival mode, a phrase which here means he’d been hiding away and isolating himself wherever possible. John had battered him when he’d got home after that glorious weekend break, had broken several toes that had left him limping and given him a few new cuts and bruises to his abdomen. His father somehow always knew when things between them had been intimate. He’d repeated his threats, explained in horrific detail how he’d go after him and Castiel if he ever found out for certain that they’d done anything together, made sure that Dean knew it was a bad idea.

Dean held his friend’s gaze though, because he had to pretend like this wasn’t a big deal for him, like he wasn’t hurting really fucking badly. He could see it in Cas too, the pain, and it just made it worse. To think he still had almost a whole year of this left to do. Ten months, actually. It was better to think about it like that. It didn’t sound so bad. Next week he’d be in single figures. 

Castiel’s arm swung back to rest on the seat behind them, and although he could tell it wasn’t intended as an invitation, Dean failed to resist, and leant into the touch. Cas smiled, looking down at him almost a little surprised, and brought his hand around to clutch at his arm. It felt like home, holding each other like this. 

They sat there a while together, unspeaking, while Cas rubbed the gooseflesh from his arm and warmed his skin. He watched the bright smiles erupting on the faces of his younger brother and the girl he wanted, and it was so difficult not to feel jealous, because if Cas had been a girl, if he’d just been a girl then he’d be happy already. They’d have been happy for at least two years, now. Not that Dean wanted to change him, because his bastard best friend was completely perfect, and he was very attached to all parts of him. So ok, maybe if John just hadn’t been John. 

When the bell rang, Castiel withdrew his arm, and Dean felt the cold air rush against his skin, reminding him of the emptiness he had inside. Cas rocked his head in a gesture toward the main building, and Dean nodded as he stood, and they waited at the bottom of the steps for his brother and Jessica. 

“Wait… Jess.” Sam said abruptly, stopping before they had reached the school. Jess turned to look at him with a curious smile, brushing a long blonde curl behind her ear. She really was very pretty, and she was looking at Sam like he was the only important thing in her world. “I… uh… I wanted to ask you… uh.” 

Sam looked at his brother for help, and Dean was nodding, shooting him a pointed gaze and trying to encourage him to carry on without physically saying as much. Castiel was grinning at his side, looking at the floor. But Jess was beaming, because she apparently didn’t mind that Sam was getting shy. 

“Yes.” She said suddenly, and Sam’s jaw dropped open. “If you were trying to ask if I’ll be your girlfriend, then yes.” 

The urge to wolf-whistle was incredibly strong, but Castiel’s hand on his arm stopped Dean from embarrassing his younger brother as he was pulled away, and the two older boys hurried off while his brother and his new girlfriend shared their first kiss. 

 

*

 

“You deserve this. You know you do. You deserve every last piece of this because it’s all your fault. All of it. You’re worthless, boy.” 

The worst part was that it hadn’t even got worse. This was just normal. It was just the usual thing he’d come to expect. And most of him believed it, too. It was his fault. It was his fault that John was like this, because he hadn’t saved her, had he? He hadn’t saved his own mother and he should have done. He deserved the punches, and he wasn’t worthy of anything better. Worthless was right. 

Another blow to his stomach left more pain, but he took it, and somehow he stayed standing. Sammy was out again, out with Jessica. Sammy the son who hadn’t let his mother die. Sammy who he was going to save, because he had to be able to save someone. If he saved someone, perhaps he wasn’t so worthless. 

The next punch caught him just below his collarbone, and he was almost sure he’d fall. He wobbled, but he just about made it. John didn't like it when he fell. It reminded him how weak his son was. But he fell almost every time. 

“You’re a worthless piece of shit.”

He _was_ a worthless piece of shit. All he ever did was fail, all he ever did was cause pain. He’d failed them all. He’d failed his mom, he’d failed Sam, he’d failed Castiel. He would always fail. It was who he was. It was his nature. He was a failure, and he deserved the punches. 

The fist connected again with his stomach and he curled over at the agony, but he managed to straighten back out. He was crying now though, why did he always have to cry? It was something else John hated, and he knew the next blow would be the worse for his tears. 

“Pathetic. Weak. Disgusting.” 

John was right. He was all of those things. And no one would ever love him because of it. He didn’t deserve love. He was pushed backward, forced to step into the kitchen, and John’s hand grabbed into his hair as he switched on the stove, and for a moment he thought this was it, that this was the end. He was going to watch him burn. At least the release would be sweet. There would be relief. 

But one long look at his snivelling son had John turning his nose up again, because he couldn’t kill the wretched boy even though he’d wanted to. His friends had got him out of some tight spots through the years, sure, but murder might be beyond their remit. He cried out in rage, hit the boy again in the stomach for being so fucking alive, and instead just shoved him, laughing when he tipped backwards and his head cracked on the counter. The boy slumped to the floor and he walked away, because the sight of it was pathetic. 

 

*

 

When Dean came to, he was alone. He felt a bit confused and dazed. There was blood on his t-shirt and his stomach hurt, and he could remember what had happened but everything felt fuzzy. He climbed the stairs quickly to his room and changed his clothes, but he could hear more movement in the house, and he didn’t want another encounter tonight. So instead, he grabbed a coat and poured out onto the street, and he just walked. 

He walked for a long while, but his steps were slow, and he hadn’t actually made it all that far before he decided to turn back. Everything felt dull. His movements were clunky and he had to really think about what foot to put where, and his vision was a little blurry. Or was it? He could hardly tell. He almost felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else, like this was a dream and he had to wake up. But he didn’t. And he had no idea what else to do but hide. 

So when he reached their street again, he knocked on Castiel’s door instead of letting himself into his own home. His friend eyed him curiously, because they were on fairly dubious terms but still pretending like all was fine. Castiel stepped back and let him in, wondering why he was coming in the front so late at night when usually he’d have gone round the back. His mother was already in bed. 

Dean didn’t talk much, just smiled and nodded, acting almost drunk. Castiel wondered if he was high again, but he couldn't smell anything on his clothes. Dean had hardly reacted when he’d leant close enough to sniff, and that was a warning sign in itself. But Cas just watched him, almost nervous, because something was up but he couldn’t put a finger on quite what. He didn’t know what to do with this weird, quiet version of his friend. So he did what they usually did, and put on a Star Wars movie until Dean told him he was tired, asked if they could go to bed. He felt like kicking him out and telling him to go to his own bed because having him stay here and sleep so close was a personal torture for him, but he got the impression that Dean needed to be out of there tonight, so he let it slide. 

He even let the comment about his shitty mattress slide, too. So what if Dean had a memory foam one. He’d had to spend a whole summer’s earnings on it. 

 

*

 

Ouch. Oh god _Jesus_ his head hurt. What the hell was going on? Why was it so dark? Where the fuck was he? And oh holy fuck, who the hell was that next to him? 

The breath in his lungs caught as he stirred awake. He opened his eyes again, but nothing had changed. It was so dark. Was it nighttime? His arm was around whoever was in the bed, and his hands groped the skin under his fingers. The muscles he was touching were bigger than any woman’s would be, so this was a man. Oh fuck this was a man. Please god let it be Cas. Please god let it be just Cas. 

Dean let his head fall forward, and it was a struggle just to get the air in but he sniffed, and with relief he realised that this must be Castiel. It smelled like his friend’s cheap cologne. He was still freaking out though, because why couldn’t he remember anything? He pushed with his hand, fingers kneading into Castiel’s side because he needed him awake, needed some semblance of normality. Right now he was terrified. 

“Cas.” He begged, voice barely loud enough but that’s all he could manage. His friend’s eyes flashed open, and where he was starting to adjust to the darkness he could just about make them out. It was definitely him, they were the eyes he dreamed of. Dean sniffed, because apparently he was crying now too, and he was so scared, so fucking scared, but also relieved that he wasn’t here alone because that would have been way worse. His head really hurt. 

“Yeah?” Castiel called in answer, pissed off. He should still be asleep, they both should. It was pitch black and clearly still the middle of the night. But when Dean clutched at him, buried his head into his chest, and Cas felt his tears fall onto him, he narrowed his eyes. “What?” He asked in confusion. 

“Where are we?” Dean responded with another question, but one that made little to no sense. Where the hell else would they be than where they fell asleep? “How did I get here?” 

“In my bed you idiot.” Cas said slowly. He was more than a little alarmed at Dean’s weird state of mind. “You came over late, remember?” 

Oh god, had he? He couldn’t remember that. What if he’d done something or said something stupid? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. His lungs had packed up now, too. His heart was racing them away, and his brain was just a haywire mess of fear. 

“Dean, breathe.” Castiel whispered, sensing his tension. He pulled back and pressed his forehead against his friend’s, cupping his cheeks with his hands while he whistled slow breaths.  “Come on, breathe.” 

It took a few minutes to get back to normal, but having Castiel there helped. He was eventually breathing again, if it was like he’d just run a marathon. 

 _Ok, so think. What do you remember last?_ He could remember Sam and Jess at school. Was that today? Or was it yesterday? No. It was the day before yesterday. He could remember the feel of Castiel’s arm around him as they sat on the bleachers. That was that same day. He could remember some of today. He could remember that horrible look that Anna had given him at school. He wasn’t sure why she’d looked at him like that. So what happened after? What happened after school? 

Oh right, that. The incident came flooding back to him in a rush of horror, and he knew that fresh tears were running down his cheeks but Castiel’s eyes were closed again because he was tired, and he’d just been woken up. He could remember John’s words. The usual, nothing special. He remembered the punches, and that, he supposed, explained the head. He must have fallen. Was he concussed? Shit he probably was. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t remember anything. 

“Do you remember?” Castiel asked quietly. Dean had thought he was asleep again. But what the fuck was he supposed to remember? What had he done? What had he said? 

“Remember what?” He chanced. 

“How you got here.” Cas whispered irritably, as if it was obvious. Relief washed through him. Hopefully he hadn’t done anything stupid. 

“Oh right, yeah. Sure.” Dean just nodded, and he watched Castiel’s lips curl into a smile. “Just a nightmare.” He mumbled his excuse, and it worked well enough that Cas didn’t complain when he buried his face against his chest. In fact, the other boy clutched him tighter. And if Castiel thought it was weird the following morning when he blamed the blood on the pillow on a nosebleed, he didn’t mention it.


	16. “Because I wanted to feel alive.”

He wouldn’t have a repeat of last time. After the last A+ incident (because he was grading them now. Anything worse than a B meant he had to leave the house afterwards, and this one had been another A+) he’d ended up in Castiel’s bed. Last time he’d ended up concussed, and he’d only realised where he was in the middle of the night. He still didn’t know if anything had happened, but Castiel had been off with him ever since. It hadn’t been fair, to him or to Cas. He wasn’t allowing himself to spend the night there at the moment, wouldn’t put them through it again. 

And yet where the hell else could he go when it was so late? Again, Sammy was with Jess. It was eleven pm, and it was cold, because it was still only January. Eight months left to go. 

He had considered Bobby’s. He’d considered begging the older man for a bed for the night but he hadn’t been in when he’d knocked on the door. He wouldn’t go back to Cas. Not this time. It was too damn painful, being near him but not with him. Maybe he could slip his way into a bar? He didn’t have a fake ID, but if he could hook up with some girl maybe he could spend the night with her. He just needed to feel alive. 

Dean bit down on his lip when he remembered Anna’s shed. It was a bit run down, sure, but it had a roof and there had been blankets in there the last time he’d set foot in the place. So he headed toward it, and had to force his way in through the window because she’d padlocked the outside since he came here last. He clambered in awkwardly, ignoring his burning lungs as he sprawled across the couch and dragged an afghan over him. He was still a bit wet. He really should have taken the time to change. 

The memory was awful. He was still so frightened. He could remember every agonising second of it. He was used to difficulty breathing. His lungs were always the first thing to give out in his panic attacks, but it was never like this. He remembered how it felt when he’d had to suck in a breath and the water had rushed down his throat, it may as well have been acid. He remembered the feel of his father’s hand in his hair holding him under, and how he’d glared when he eventually let him pull back. 

He’d believed that the plughole of the kitchen sink would be the last thing he’d ever see. It was funny really, with the amount of times he’d been seconds from death, that he was still so scared to die. 

And to think that all of that was just because of one comment. One stupid comment. And it hadn’t even been his. Sammy had talked back, like usual, but this time Dean hadn’t told him not to. He hadn’t told his brother to respect his father, like he usually did. He didn’t know why he hadn’t, but John had made him pay for it all the same. 

Dean lay there shivering on the couch, trying desperately to clear his mind of the dark thoughts that were clouding it. He had to keep reminding himself that it was only eight months before he could get out. Only eight. But it was difficult to believe there would ever be an end when everything hurt, when he was cold and tired and trying to fall asleep in someone else’s shed. 

Was it even worth it? He found himself wondering, like he so often did recently. Was any of it worth it? He knew deep down that if it hadn’t been for Sammy and Castiel he’d have gone already. He’d thought about it a thousand times in his darker moments, when John had been just that little bit worse. He’d thought about how to tie the knot, how high to string the rope. The plan was all but formed, really. He could just give up now. 

Except that he couldn’t. Because like it or not, he did have to live for Sam, and Cas might still be there if he could make it through. Instead, he pulled up his shirt and looked down at his abdomen, at the few small scars on it that John hadn’t left. They were fresh and new and they reminded him he was still human. Castiel was his only hope, and without his hope he was reduced to this. The pain had made him feel alive.

He was thinking again about giving up for good when he heard the noise, and he sat up, feeling suddenly on edge when a shape appeared through the glass door. He stood quickly, and tried to yank the window back open, but she was quicker. 

“Dean?” Anna asked in wonder, watching curiously as her ex-boyfriend tried to escape. Dean swallowed before he turned, wondering how much hatred he’d see in her eyes. He’d treated her badly too. He treated everyone badly. 

“Sorry.” He rushed to apologise. “I’ll go.” 

Her hand caught his arm as he tried to push past her. “Don’t be stupid.” She said. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just… uh. I just wanted to be on my own for a while.” He stammered. But he let her lead him back to the couch and he sat down next to her when she gestured for him to do so. He felt weird about being here with her, but it was actually nice to have some different company. He felt weirder when her hand threaded against his own.

“Are you in danger?” She asked after a long pause. He looked at her in surprise, with fear in his eyes, and he probably couldn’t have looked more obvious if he’d tried. She’d seen his scars before. She was one of the only three people who he’d allowed that privilege. And Cas might not have worked it out but perhaps he was blinded. She was smart, and perceptive. And he was going to lie to her like he lied to everyone who tried to figure out the truth. 

“No.” Dean stated. 

“Then why are you so sad?” She whispered. She knew damn well he was lying, but it was his business, not hers. She wasn’t an idiot, and she’d seen the signs. “Is it Castiel? He’s got feelings for you, hasn’t he?” 

Dean almost choked on his breath. _That_ he hadn’t expected her to say. Was it that obvious that something was going on between them? He stared up at her with blank surprise. 

“It must be weird for you, being straight, but having your best friend feel like that.” She went on, and Dean swallowed, because maybe he’d gotten away with that part at least. She’d got enough wrong, thank god. Although he was probably going to have to accept reasonably soon that he was not, in fact, straight.

When he remained silent, because fucking hell he had no idea what to say to any of that, she rolled her eyes. “You can talk to me, you know. I’m not going to tell anyone anything that you say here. I do still care about you.” 

He believed her when she said that she still cared, but he didn’t believe she wouldn’t blab. She was just one of those gossipy girls. “I don’t believe you.” He said with a sad smile. He tried to change the subject. “But I am sorry about the things I said.” 

“No you’re not.” She rolled her eyes. “It was all true anyway. But I won’t tell, honestly.” She sighed, but still Dean said nothing. “I don’t believe you, either. When you say you’re not in danger. Let me help you Dean, please.” 

“Why would you want to help me?” He asked, because surely she must know that was the most ridiculous idea out there. He was completely untouchable, beyond help. 

“I don’t want you winding up dead because I didn’t help you when I could have.” She admitted. 

It was tempting, actually, to tell her everything. She was far enough removed that he could say she was lying if she told anyone, she was far enough away from them that maybe it wouldn’t get back to his father. And yet still there was that risk, and still he couldn’t let anyone know because knowledge was dangerous, and John was a dangerous man. 

“That’s sweet, but I don’t need help, Anna. I’m safe.” He lied again. 

Anna sighed, and they sat together for a long while in silence, their hands still holding each other’s. He watched her, and it almost made the pain worse. She was a good person, inside. She was just a bit foolish and flirtatious and she was a terrible teenager. He expected that she’d be a nice, normal member of society when she was older and had mellowed out a bit. She'd go to college, become a medical doctor like she's always wanted, find a lovely husband and live in a house with three children, a dog and a white picket fence. She'd get the apple pie life. He still cared about her. He had liked her, but never loved her. They way he’d felt about her was nothing like how he felt about Castiel. 

“Do you want to take your mind off things?” Anna asked after some time. He looked back at her quizzically, unsure of exactly what she was getting at, when she moved in and pressed her lips against his. He pulled back quickly, because he had no idea where that had just come from and it had confused him. “We could kiss, or we could fuck?” She offered. 

“What?” Dean said, bewildered. “What about Benny?” 

“Benny and I… we aren’t exclusive.” She tried to explain. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Is that what you used to say to him when you and me were together?” He said irritably. In truth, her betrayal hadn’t ever hurt, because he’d never truly loved her. 

“Yes, because we weren’t exclusive either.” Anna retorted. And she continued before he could come back at her. “I never knew who she was, but I wasn’t the only unfaithful one in our last few weeks, was I?” 

And shit, she had him there, even if she did get the _she_ bit wrong. 

“I was never actually in love with you, Dean.” She said quietly, and maybe that should have felt like a punch to the stomach, but really it just felt like a pinch to the skin. “I did like you, I really liked you, but I was never in love.” 

He looked up to meet her eyes. “I was never in love with you either.” He admitted. He’d learned the difference the hard way. But still, he let himself get lost in her gaze, and he let it happen naturally when she pressed her lips back down against his own. He opened his mouth to her tongue like he was welcoming an old friend, and when she climbed on top of him and straddled his legs, he let her touch him, let her put her hand down on his cock and squeeze. 

And afterwards, when he’d come down, he let her lie with him, because it was nice to be held. Having someone else’s heartbeat against his own, it helped him to feel alive. 

 

*

 

It was a relief, that spending time alone with Castiel hadn’t been as awkward as he’d thought it could have been. It wasn’t that they’d been avoiding each other - they hadn’t - but it had been easier to not be alone quite so often as normal, and they’d subconsciously adopted some buffers into the mix (and hell, they’d even been spending time with Garth, so you know things must have got pretty desperate). 

But tonight was ok, actually, even though Garth had bailed on the field trip. Cas seemed genuinely alright, mentally stable. He was laughing and joking and did it hurt that he couldn’t wrap his arms around him and kiss him and make him laugh harder? Hell yes. But it was enough just to see him smile. Maybe he’d been an idiot for shutting him out as much as he had because it certainly hadn’t done him any favours. He’d been low these last few weeks, really low, even for him. And he’d done some stupid things he was regretting right about now. Like Anna, he wished he hadn’t even seen her. And Cas didn’t even know about it yet. 

Still, he allowed them a while longer to just enjoy each other’s company, because although he felt like he had to tell his friend what he’d done he also didn’t want him to associate his presence only with stupid admissions and pain. So he just continued to laugh and smile at the impression Castiel was currently doing of their math teacher, because he was so good it was as if he was in the cheap hotel room with them. They were here for geography, were going to be visiting some stupid waterfall tomorrow, but it was miles away, so this was a two night thing. Two nights he was going to have to spend alone with his best friend, since Garth had ditched them last minute. 

But despite his resolution to tell Castiel about his mistakes a bit later, it seemed his change in mood was obvious. Maybe it was the forced smile that his friend noticed, or maybe it was the slightly too long pauses. Maybe it was the fact that his cheeks had gone red. After a few minutes of Cas eyeing him suspiciously between jokes, his friend finally sighed. 

“Spit it out.” Castiel demanded. “You’re acting weird.” 

Dean grimaced, dropping his head to stare at the oak-coloured floorboards. He had to tell him sooner or later, may as well get it over with. “I have to tell you something.” He admitted. “Something I did.” 

The blue eyed boy paused, his sapphire stare simultaneously suspicious and anxious. “Right, ok. Go on.” 

“I did something stupid, Cas. Something I shouldn’t have done.” 

“What… what did you do?” Castiel looked nervous, and his hands were balled into tight fists. Dean knew he was bracing himself, and he knew he was right to do so. He was about to be punched in the gut. 

“I went back to her again.” 

Castiel’s single statement was surrounded by silence at either end. “To Anna?” He asked, and the resounding guilt on his friend’s face was enough of an admission. He scrubbed at his eyes with his fingers, rubbing in frustration as he dipped his gaze away from his friend to stare at the floor like it was the most interesting thing he’d seen all week. 

 _What the hell, Dean?_ He wanted to shout. He’d never felt so conflicted before. He wanted to throw a punch, to smack him right in the face because sure, things were weird, but Dean, goddamnit, belonged to him, and didn’t have permission to go and fuck his ex-girlfriend. Especially since they’d done this before, this whole stupid fucking routine when things between them got a bit too intimate. And last time he’d ended up hurt, hadn’t he even considered his safety? But while all of this ran through his mind, Cas also wanted to tear his fucking shirt off and run his hands across his chest and say, _you don’t need her, I’m here._

The anger won out, considering what a bad idea the other option was. “Fucking hell, Dean! After last time?! What the fuck were you thinking? Anything could have happened. Why the fuck did you do that?” 

“I don’t know.” Was the only answer he was given. Until Dean glanced up and caught sight of the fury within his eyes and continued. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“What do you mean, you didn’t mean to? She didn’t just fall onto your dick.” Castiel snapped. 

“No… I…” Dean stammered. He’d known Cas would take it badly, but the anger was worse than he’d imagined. Because of his father, he didn’t deal well with people’s anger. He was on the verge of a panic attack, the fear bubbling within his stomach. He took a deep breath to try and dispel it. “I just wanted to be on my own for a while, so I went to the shed.” 

“You didn’t think she’d be there?” Cas rolled his eyes, because he didn’t understand why Dean couldn’t be alone in his room, why he had to go somewhere else. He couldn’t have understood though, really, because he didn’t have the whole picture.

“She wasn’t there. Not at first. But she came by after a while and we talked and… I don’t know, she started it.” Dean grimaced, head in his hands. 

“I can’t believe you sometimes.” Castiel sighed irritably. He let the silence consume them for a while, because he had to try and get a hold on his rage before he said something he’d regret later, like _I love you_ or _please stop going back to her, don’t you know what it’s doing to me?_ He took a deep breath, and instead asked the other question. “Why?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t!” Cas all but yelled. “Don’t bullshit me. Why?” 

“Cas I don’t know!” Dean protested, because he didn’t want to admit the truth. Couldn’t tell his friend what had been running through his head that night. Couldn’t admit that he’d been on the verge of doing something stupid and detrimental and actually, sleeping with his ex was about the safest thing he could have done in that situation. “It just sorta happened.” 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Castiel’s tone was acid. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair on you, it’s not fair on her, it’s not fair on…” He trailed off, but the _me_ that he left out was obvious, and the fact that he didn’t say it broke Dean’s heart more than hearing it would have done. “It’s not fair on Benny!” 

“I’m sorry, alright? I know I shouldn’t have done it. I wish I hadn’t done it.” 

“Then why the fuck did you do it?” Cas spat. 

“Cas, please.” Dean begged.

“Don’t you ‘ _Cas please’_ me! I need to know why you’re acting like such an ass.” His best friend demanded, and Dean was shaking now, because he was on the verge of tears and _this close_ to screaming out the truth. He pulled another breath in, and it was getting harder to do that so it took a fair amount of effort and time. 

“I’m not… I… ugh.” Dean trailed off because a tear had escaped, and he was hoping that Cas might give him some sympathy if he saw what he was going through here. 

He was wrong. “Why, Dean?” Castiel repeated angrily, not swayed at all by Dean’s upset. His friend said nothing, sat rooted in place and crying, refusing to meet his eyes. “Why?!” 

“Because I wanted to feel alive.” Dean said finally, half relieved and half terrified to be spitting something out that even remotely resembled the truth. 

“What?” Castiel swallowed in disbelief, because he hadn’t expected that. He’d banked on Dean punching him or storming out, not getting an answer that was anything like the truth. But he’d also not recognised that as being the truth and this took him completely unawares. He’d figured he’d done it in his gay panic, because Cas knew he’d been pushing him these last few months, if unintentionally, and he’d reasoned that Dean was going back to Anna because he wanted to feel straight, to feel _normal._ The truth was far more terrifying. If he wanted to feel alive, what was he feeling the rest of the time? 

His heart broke in two when Dean finally met his eyes. His friend was shedding tears like his eyes had no other purpose, but he didn’t even seem to care. He’d been a terrible friend, hadn’t he? He loved him so much and yes it hurt, it really fucking hurt that he wanted more but Dean obviously needed something else from him and he’d been avoiding him over what? Sex? That was not a good enough reason. He didn’t waste any more time before he scooted over onto his knees and wrapped his arms, tight, around his friend. Dean melted against him, sobbing into his shoulder without resolve. 

“Dean, you need help.” Castiel whispered after some time had passed and Dean had almost stilled. “You need therapy or something. I don’t know, some prozac, anything. It’s not normal to feel like that.” 

“I’m fine, Cas.” His friend said in response, because the pause had given him time to build his walls back up. 

“No you’re not.” Castiel insisted. “People who are fine don’t fuck their exes just to feel alive. You need help. You need to see a doctor.” 

“I can’t, Cas. But I’m fine.” Dean lifted his head to meet his friend’s gaze, his own now filled with determination.

“Why can’t you?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Dean -”

“-I said I’m fine.” Dean interrupted firmly.

The silence that filled the air was far from comfortable, and it had Cas squirming where he sat. He rolled his eyes, taking slow, panicked breaths, because he had no idea how to deal with this. He was used to Dean and his erratic behaviours and confusing emotions, but he hadn’t realised how broken he’d become. 

“Fine.” He whispered after some time, looking into Dean’s eyes. “If you won’t get help, at least promise me something. Promise me that the next time you need to feel alive you’ll come to me.” 

Dean laughed, a bitter, sarcastic laugh. “What, so that we can have sex to make me feel better?” 

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.” Castiel replied, deadly serious. Dean’s eyes softened at the intensity of his friend’s gaze and the obvious devotion within them, and a few fresh tears fell because he was grateful really, so fucking grateful that despite everything he’d done, despite the shitty way he’d treated his friend that he’d still do that for him. He let his head fall back to rest on Castiel’s waiting shoulder, and his friend’s arms clutched him tight. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas.” Dean whispered with a knowing tone. 

Cas sucked in a breath at the subtle acknowledgement of the pieces of burning heart in his chest. It was destroying him. All of this was. Dean would be the death of him, he was sure. “I’m sorry too. Sorry that I’ve been such a shit friend that you don’t feel like you can come to me. Sorry that things between us are weird enough that you won’t.”

Nuzzling his nose into Castiel’s neck, Dean sighed, because Cas still had it all wrong but he couldn’t possibly correct him. “They’re not that weird.” He whispered in reassurance. “I still need you.” 

“I need you, too.” 

 

*

 

_“Fuck.” He moaned as Castiel thrusted harder. “Fuck I love you.”_

_“I love you too.” His boyfriend grinned, and smacked his thick cock deep inside him again and left him seeing stars._

_It felt perfect, complete and total ecstasy. Every time Cas pumped inside of him Dean thought he was going to come all over them both. He was teetering at the edge, pulled on the delicious seesaw of pain and pleasure. And his beautiful, beautiful lover looked completely gorgeous, totally, completely fucking perfect as he thrusted his perfect gorgeous cock inside, and his large, safe hands dug into his hips with wanton need. And he was smiling, too, watching him like he was truly loved._

_What a way to feel. Everything was perfect. They were here, together in LA, with Sammy and Jess, and Cas had just got his first role and he was going to be famous and huge and win oscars and earn so much that they never had to go back to Kansas. And he was still_ with him _. He still chose Dean. He loved_ Dean _._

_The spring of tension snapped, and Dean was coming, calling out his amazing boyfriend’s name as he plastered him with come. Moaned his appreciation for Castiel’s cock as Cas began to spasm up too, and started to fill him up inside with a filthy growl._

 

*

 

When Dean opened his eyes, he was pissed. Why did that have to be a dream? It was everything he’d ever wanted. He raised his hand up to his forehead and wiped away the sweat, grimacing at the feel of his quickly cooling come seeping through his boxers. His arm was still around Castiel, too. He hazarded a look at his friend, who seemed to still be asleep. After his confession the night before, they’d squeezed themselves together in one of the single beds rather than take one each. It was starting to get light, but it wasn’t dawn yet. 

He needed to take care of his problem, really. Needed to clean himself up before Castiel woke up and realised what had happened. He could have done without this, tonight, but being near Castiel left him so messed up. He shuffled onto his side, with the intention of climbing over his friend to escape to the bathroom, but as his body came into contact with his friend’s, he froze. 

Castiel was hard. Like seriously fucking hard. 

Dean swallowed as he considered his options. His body tensed, because he knew that the right thing to do was to ignore it and go, but the brain that was so often run by his dick had other ideas, and being this close, he could hear how heavy Castiel’s breaths were. It was definitely _not_ the right thing to do, but Dean when bucked his hips gently forward, rubbing his friend’s erection against the bone of his pelvis, he was rewarded with a quiet little moan. It felt kinda gross, because his own boxers were soaked through and he knew he was probably just rubbing his own come all over Castiel, but at the same time it felt kinky and weird and he was overcome by how much he just wanted Cas to feel good. 

What he didn’t realise, of course, was that Cas was awake. Had been the whole time. Had been ever since he’d heard his name being called by his thrashing best friend. His boner was hardly an accidental nighttime thing. Not when he’d just watched his friend having what seemed like a very good wet dream. He’d watched as his cock had swollen up, seen it just lifting the elastic of his waistband, and almost drooled as Dean had come all over himself. So no, this was no accident. But whatever the hell was happening now didn’t seem to be either. 

It was hard to pretend that he was still asleep when Dean thrust forward again and his damp crotch dragged up against his rock hard length. But it was definitely good. He’d been toying with the idea of jacking off before this, but this fitted the bill even better, even if he had no fucking clue what Dean was doing. Cas let out another, involuntary moan, because Dean’s hands had found his ass and this time he ground down on him with even more friction, and fuck this was so dangerous and confusing that he was not going to last at all. 

He only needed a few more thrusts before he was coming too, following suit with his friend and spilling into his boxers like he was thirteen. 

When he’d come down and caught his breath, Cas opened his eyes slowly, and Dean wasn’t looking at him. Couldn’t look at him. Dean had no idea why he’d just done that, because that surely just made everything one hundred percent worse. Except that he could hear Castiel’s steady breathing, and his friend was squeezing his fingers casually into his side rather than freak out. 

He opened his eyes, and gradually lifted his gaze, looking up at Castiel from underneath his thick, long lashes. His friend wore an unreadable expression. He knew he wasn’t pissed, and he wasn’t distraught, but he didn’t look happy or turned on or anything obvious either. He just looked blank and calm, and he didn’t know if that was forced or not, because Cas was a good enough actor that it could have been just that, an act. 

Cas held his gaze for a long moment and the guilt was starting to slowly eat away at Dean’s heart. But his friend didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound. Just lay there with his hand still on Dean’s side and come drying on his cock. They should go and clean up, Dean knew, but if he moved then the moment might break. If he moved then it was an acknowledgement of what had passed, even if it was obvious by the dark stain on the front of his grey underwear.

The whole thing just left Dean feeling uncomfortable, and it was almost a relief when Cas closed his eyes.

 

*

 

“Dean?” Mrs Miller asked, and Dean got the impression it wasn’t for the first time, if the irate expression on her face was anything to go by. He’d been zoned out for the last half hour at least, so who knows what she wanted. The teacher repeated the question, something about waterfalls and differential erosion, but he had no fucking clue what she was talking about because he was shit at geography. He was shit at everything. 

Castiel watched, biting his lip as Dean’s eyes went wide. He could see he didn’t know the answer. He wasn’t sure he even understood the question. He consciously took a step closer to his friend, so that the skin on their arms was just brushing in subtle support. Dean’s ragged breathing was obvious, the closer he got. If they hadn’t accrued an audience, if the rest of the class weren’t staring them down right now he’d have snaked an arm around his back, because Dean was close to snapping and he knew it. 

He’d been quiet all day, and Cas knew he felt weird about what he’d done last night. Hell, he felt kinda weird about it himself, but he had come up with an explanation, even if he didn’t like it very much. He _had_ told Dean that he would help him to feel alive. He figured Dean had taken him up on the offer. 

“I _will_ be talking to your father about this, Mr Winchester.” 

And shit, if that wasn’t the worst thing the teacher could have said. Cas squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace as he felt the sweeping air next to him while his friend peeled away from the class. Mrs Miller was watching him go with a mixture of fury and confusion when he opened his eyes again, and, willing to face the consequences, Cas tore after him, catching him up quickly and bringing him into a hug as he grabbed an arm and pulled. 

As Dean shook, his legs gave out, and they were sat on the floor before they knew it, his head buried in Castiel’s shoulder.

“Breathe, Dean, breathe.” Cas was whispering, and at the whistling of his own inhalations Dean sucked in a sliver of oxygen, dispelling some of the dizziness from his head. 

“What is going on?” Mrs Miller had caught them up and Castiel sighed. “Castiel, move out of the way please, I need to see he’s ok.” 

“He’s fine.” Cas insisted, refusing to move an inch (and clutching Dean closer if anything). “He just needs space, just please, leave us alone for a few minutes.” 

But she wasn’t getting the picture, and she kept moving closer. She was so close now that she’d noticed how infrequent and ragged Dean’s breathing was, and although Cas knew she was just trying to do right by him he kept looking at her like she was a threat. 

“He’s barely breathing!” She hissed irritably, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and applying pressure enough that Cas had to push back to stay upright. 

“I noticed.” He retorted angrily, shooting her a glare that she barely deserved. “It’s a panic attack. He gets them all the time.” 

Mrs Miller withdrew her hand then, eyeing Castiel with curiosity. He held her gaze with a fierce protectiveness in his own, ensuring his breathing was loud enough for Dean to follow. The teacher watched them for a while, and Cas wished she’d leave them alone. 

Suddenly, Dean pulled back, his breathing still ragged and his expression still stricken. Cas was surprised when his friend pushed him away, but the clenching of his stomach told him all he needed to know. Just in time, he stuck out an arm and pushed the teacher back while Dean threw up over the ground she’d just been stood on. And when he was done, his breathing went straight back to the shallow half breaths Cas wished were fuller. They needed privacy to get him over this. 

As Mrs Miller handed Castiel a tissue from her purse he looked up at her gratefully, because none of this was her fault at all but they did need to get away. “Please can I take him back to the bus?” He asked politely, and it took her a while to contemplate but eventually she nodded, and as she walked away he pulled on Dean’s arm and encouraged him back up, leading him slowly away from the class and the waterfall and back to where the empty school bus was parked. 

By the time they were back on the bus and alone, Dean was breathing slightly more normally, but he still took the opportunity to rest his head against Castiel’s shoulder and smiled when his friend’s arm clutched around his middle as they lay together along the back row, aware there was a good hour before the rest of the class would return. He wouldn’t ever know what he’d done to deserve a friend as good as Cas. It wasn’t quite enough though, just being held, and he wasn’t sure what was missing until Cas shuffled, and where their t-shirts rode up their skin pressed together, so suddenly Dean pulled more of it out of the way, because the feeling of bare skin on bare skin was grounding him, and made him feel finally safe. 

“You ok?” Cas whispered into Dean’s hair a little while later, when he was sure Dean had recovered.

“Yeah.” Dean breathed, but he made no attempt to move and Castiel didn’t either. He was just letting himself enjoy the closeness. He was never getting out of this cycle, was he? Of getting close to his friend, getting hurt and pushing away again?

Castiel took a deep breath, and chewed his lip. He’d made his mind up to give Dean an out, because he was still clearly messed up and whatever the hell had happened last night wasn’t going to help matters, so he’d let him take the easy option if it meant that they didn’t have to talk about it. 

“You know what happened last night was just a coincidence, right?” Castiel said quietly. 

At that, Dean pulled back to look at him, and considered his options. He could accept the lie, try and move on, but he was so sick of lying. So sick. “No, Cas, it wasn’t.” He sighed instead, looking into his friend’s eyes with tears in his own. “I did that to you. I did it without asking and I’m so fucking sorry. I… I had… and I don’t know, you were hard and…”

“Hey.” Cas smiled, his hand coming up to cup Dean’s cheek in support. “It’s ok.” 

“It isn’t, Cas.” 

“Of course it is. It’s not like I minded, for a start. You’re my best friend, and we’ve done worse. If you need me for anything, _anything_ , you just need to say.” 

“I’m sorry.” Dean choked back his sorrow. “I just needed to feel… to feel.” _Something, anything, you._  

“It’s ok, really, it is.” 

“It’s not fair though.” Dean protested, and for a moment Castiel wasn’t sure who it wasn’t supposed to be fair on, because he presumed Dean was talking about it not being fair on him, but the expression on his face looked akin to heartbreak. 

“Dean, at the moment I’m more worried about your mental state than whether shit is fair or not.  Let’s work stuff out one thing at a time, ok?” Castiel smiled, and Dean shot him a grateful look. 

“I am sorry though. And Cas… I know I keep making things between us really weird. I don’t mean to do it.” Dean smiled back, a hesitant, almost nervous smile. He knew Castiel had figured out what he meant when his brow furrowed, because there was no way he couldn’t have noticed the semi he was sporting in his jeans. Try as he might, he was completely unable to prevent his body’s reaction to this boy. Ever since they’d started this stupid game months before, he’d have this frustratingly inappropriate reaction to being near him almost every time.

Constantly full of surprises, Castiel laughed. “You’re not alone, Dean. Don’t worry about it. I guess it’s just the stuff we’ve done.” 

 

*

 

They’d taken to separate beds that night, because the mood between them had felt lighter and they’d laughed their way to sleep. Maybe there was something in this whole, talking through your feelings thing, Dean thought reluctantly. He felt better. 

Or at least, he felt better until he had another nightmare. 

He told himself he was unsure why his unhelpfully self destructive brain had decided to replay his experiences on the airplane again. But it was a lie. It was probably ridiculous, but he couldn’t get it off his mind. Last night, when he’d done what he’d done to Castiel, he hadn’t asked permission, and although his friend had since told him he didn’t mind, the dark pits of his mind were insisting that the lack of consent made him as bad as the strange man. 

Ok, so maybe not _quite_ so bad. Cas wasn’t a child after all, and he could have stopped him if he’d wanted to. 

But the realisation still didn’t stop him from sweating over it for the next half hour. It didn’t stop his heart from beating far faster than it was supposed to. Nor did it stop his tears from falling. Dean’s hands went to his face, his fingernails dragging at his temples in distress and panic and fear. His breathing had shallowed again, and he felt so vulnerable. That nightmare always left him in a state. In fact, he was sure it got worse the older he got. Or maybe it got worse the more messed up he got. Either way, right now he was getting himself into a dark place very quickly. 

All he could think was that Castiel would be so much happier if he’d never been in his life in the first place. He was so worthless and useless and dangerous, that all he’d ever done was bring harm and sadness to his friend. Cas didn’t need him. Would probably be better off without him. He was just so selfish for keeping him around. He wasn’t worthy of the love his friend showed him. 

It was happening again, the lack of feeling. Numb, was the only word he could use to describe himself right now. His heart had been through so much pain that it had copped out, and this awful tingly sensation was the only reminder that it had once been alive. He wished he’d brought the razor blade with him, because it was the only thing that helped when he got into this mood. It was the only thing that he could feel. 

But he hadn’t, of course. And the only thing he had here to stop him from doing something stupid was the boy he wanted so badly to protect. 

Dean pulled himself quickly out of the bed, and climbed into Castiel’s instead. His tears had started to fall a while before, and it was the wetness against his arm that woke Castiel. He stirred, frowned at his distraught best friend, and pulled him into his arms naturally. He did try, he tried to talk to him, asked what was wrong, why he was suddenly so upset, but Dean remained quiet. His only noises the choking out of his sobs. 

Castiel held him tightly while Dean cried himself back to sleep. 

But that wasn’t where the night ended. Dean would have been so lucky. The nightmare was the same, but just more vivid. And this time when he awoke he was thrashing in the bed, covered in sweat and tears and Cas was trying to restrain him while looking completely alarmed. He was hardly breathing, and again his heart was taken up in his panic, running a sprint while his mind was in overdrive. 

Castiel had no idea what to do, but he was beginning to freak out himself. Dean was so fucking broken and he had no idea how to repair him. He didn’t show his fears, though, because he knew that if Dean saw he was worried it would make his own panic worse. So instead, he pinned his arms to the bed and met his wide eyes with a smile on his face. When he lowered himself slowly back down, keeping contact with the growing confusion in Dean’s expression, his friend choked. 

“I need to feel something.” Dean blurted, and Castiel knew it was a plea rather than a statement. He let a wide smile take his face as he cupped his friend’s cheek. 

“You can’t feel it already?” He asked, beaming. He was done with lying, and he figured Dean might be too. “How much I care about you? How much I love you?” 

Dean’s brow lifted in surprise, and Castiel watched the calm fade into his panicked expression and claim the territory. His friend smiled too, and Cas just continued to beam at him because this boy right here was the most important thing in his world. 

“Go to sleep.” Castiel whispered, and safe in the arms of the boy he loved, Dean did.


	17. “Want you so fucking much.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked as she strolled toward him. Her expression was one of curiosity, and there was none of the anticipated resentment within her gaze. Dean felt his chest tighten a little at the sight of her, because they were hardly on speaking terms after he’d casually tossed her out almost two years before. Her dark hair lay in thick curls and hung beneath her shoulders, her eyes were big and almost black and her skin was a warm brown. She was entirely different to anything he’d ever wanted. Anna, with her red hair and skin as white as a sheet, Castiel, a more tanned white with those big fucking blue eyes and short, almost black sex hair. Cassie was the complete opposite to either of them. 

“Cassie, hey.” Dean said, trying to act casual. His eyes had narrowed automatically and he was forgetting completely how to behave around people. The alcohol in his bloodstream, which he’d have assumed would give him confidence, was actually just fucking him over. “Uh… Cas. We’re here because of Cas.” He stuttered awkwardly. “He’s Gabriel’s cousin.” 

“Oh, right.” She smiled, and her lips drew together in a thin line that made her look unattractive. He’d almost asked himself what he’d ever seen in her but in reality, he hadn’t ever been truly into her. “I’m here because of Becky.” She said, gesturing over to the blonde haired, pale girl that was sat behind Gabriel and laughing with an air of utter desperation that had even Dean grimacing. Gabriel just looked confused. “We don’t really know anyone here but…she’s into him.” Cassie explained with a shrug, very aware how her friend was coming off but completely powerless to stop her (she had tried, but Becky was on par with a force of nature). “Where is Castiel?” 

“He’s over there somewhere talking to Bartholomew.” Dean shrugged, and began to play with the label on his beer bottle just for something to do with his fingers. He wouldn’t admit that he’d been staring his friend down for the ten minutes before Cassie had found him. He wouldn’t admit that it bothered him how big his smile was, how much they were talking and laughing and flirting. He wouldn’t admit that Bartholomew’s hands on Castiel’s arms had made him angrier than he’d known he could feel. He couldn’t admit that he was completely jealous. 

“Bart’s here?” Cassie’s eyes lit up a little and Dean recalled from somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d seen them hanging out together once or twice in school. They were probably friends, but he didn't know for sure (or care). 

The air between them became quickly awkward, now that the small talk had dried up. The sheer volume of the party and the music and the echoes of laughter from the other teenagers enjoying each other’s company only sought to amplify the weird atmosphere between them. Dean wondered why she hadn’t already left him to his own devices, but when he looked up there was a glint in her eye that showed him the reason - she still wanted him, even after all this time, even after he’d treated her so badly. It left him feeling sour, and guilty beyond measure. 

“Dean… look, I’m sorry if I came on too strong before.” She began suddenly, and he dropped their gaze when his guilt overwhelmed him. 

“No, Cassie, you didn’t.” He interrupted before she could continue. “ _I’m_ sorry. It wasn’t… I don’t know, it wasn’t anything you did.” 

“Then what?” 

“I just had to work through some stuff.” He shrugged, knowing that was a shitty answer but it was the closest he could get to the truth without telling it. 

“And have you?” She asked, and he knew this was her asking for permission to pursue him again. He had no idea how to let her down a second time. That was all he ever did, wasn’t it? Let people down. 

“Some of it.” He answered quietly, shooting her a sad, half smile. She looked like she was going to open her mouth again, come out with some plea or do something stupid like try and kiss him, but before she could speak they were interrupted, and Dean was relieved when his best friend appeared next to him, even if Bartholomew had followed him. Cassie looked pissed, but her eyes softened when Bart shot her a grin. 

“Hey.” Dean breathed, looking at Cas with a grateful expression. His friend just smiled, and there was a pink blush to his cheeks that Dean wished didn’t exist, because he knew who had put it there and why. He wondered whether it had been his idea, or Bart’s, to interrupt this conversation. He hoped it had been Castiel’s, but he was drunk enough to believe it could have been either of their’s.

Castiel looked back at Dean fondly. Try as he might, he couldn’t get a handle on himself tonight. In retrospect, trying to make Dean jealous by flirting with Bart probably hadn’t been the best idea ever, because now he had a cling-on, and he was going to have to spend a lot of time with him in the very near future. But Bart was obviously gay, and definitely attracted to him, he’d figured by the way he’d lapped up the attention he’d paid him and reciprocated just as eagerly. But Cas still didn’t feel ready to come out, was still a bit messed up over it. He wasn’t ashamed, it wasn’t that at all. If he was honest, he wasn’t ready because Dean wasn’t ready either, and he knew that if he came out his best friend might feel the pressure, and he wouldn’t respond well. But if he had already been out, he’d have kissed Bart by now, just as a test, just to see whether it had the same effect on him as kissing Dean did. All evening, they’d flirted relentlessly, and now he’d have to pay the price. 

It obviously hadn’t even worked, either, because here was Dean with fucking Cassie of all girls. Cassie, who he’d used and abandoned on the night things started to get weird. The night they’d shared their first kiss. He’d been too far away to hear what they were saying to each other, but Cassie was looking up at him with lust in her eyes, and Dean had shut down to a point that he couldn’t read his mind like he usually could. The alcohol and the irritation had been enough to make him feel hot, and he knew his cheeks were probably bright red. He was really quite drunk, and he’d had to come and interrupt when he did or he’d have done something really stupid. 

Cassie, though, didn’t seem to have got the memo. She confidently threaded her fingers through Dean’s, and although Cas could feel his friend tensing up in surprise, he didn’t pull away either. 

Before either of them could react, Bart was teasing him again, explaining how he was _definitely_ the better actor and he would _definitely_ be getting into the school he and Castiel both had auditions for. Bart was laughing, explaining that he would get the place for being better looking, but pointing out how Cas himself wasn’t bad to look at either, he _supposed_. Cas found that the other boy had a rather irritating looking face, actually. He looked permanently smug, like his head was yet to be removed from his own asshole, his blondish hair swept formally back like he was the fucking president. He did have nice eyes, though. Not quite as nice as Dean’s were, but they were nice. 

It was probably the irritation that made him flirt back, and although his stomach was churning at the thought of doing anything with Bartholomew, who he had absolutely no feelings for, it came naturally enough. He just said the things he’d love to say to Dean, like _yes, well, with your exceptional good looks you can have anything you want._

He’d noticed when Dean had begun to flirt with Cassie. He’d noticed the way she’d stepped even closer to him and how her eyelashes were fluttering while he put on his best seductive smirk, the one he usually reserved for hovering his lips above Castiel’s lips (or his cock). He’d noticed how he laughed, how she giggled, how his hand found the small of her back. 

But his reverie broke with Bart’s bombshell, which he announced loud enough that all four of them heard. “I _am_ gay.” He said to Castiel suddenly, clearly ready to get this party started properly. “Just in case there was any doubt.” 

Castiel felt himself withdrawing rapidly. His arms, without his permission, crossed across his stomach and his breath caught. He’d been treating this as a game until now, but shit just got real. He didn’t want to tell anyone. Not today, not here. He’d never felt under more pressure. It felt like his secret was being threatened, like he was held at gun point.

And to put the cherry on the cake, next to him, Dean tensed up. He just went rigid and held himself there awkwardly. He didn’t move or speak, just watched Bart with furious eyes. Cassie had noticed his reaction, had narrowed her eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. Castiel breathed as Dean let the girl lead him away, leaving him to deal with the situation alone. 

They stood in a tense silence for what could have been an hour. “Have I read this wrong?” Bart asked awkwardly after some time. 

“Uh… yeah. Sorry. I’m… I’m not. I’m not gay.” Castiel lied, because denial was the best option he had right about now. Bart looked more embarrassed than upset. Cas wished Dean hadn’t left. He wished Cassie hadn’t taken him away when he needed him. “I’ll… uh, I’ll go.” 

And with that, he tore across the room, searching rapidly for his friend and wincing when he caught sight of him with Cassie pressed against a wall, tongues down each other’s throats. It was hurting, the sight of them, but he didn’t care, because he needed Dean and god-fucking-damnit he’d come to his rescue enough times, now was time for Dean to repay the favour. 

With a hand on Dean’s shoulder, Cas pulled, prizing them apart with a slurp of lips and tongue that had his heart throbbing. He shot his friend a look that betrayed it all, the anger, the pain, the fear, the love. Dean just nodded, _just_ nodded. He didn’t even look back at Cassie, just let Castiel lead him outside into the yard where they stood while Cas shook with adrenaline. 

“I told him I wasn’t gay.” Cas said simply, just loud enough for his friend to hear. Dean didn’t have to acknowledge the lie or ask why he’d said it, he just hung his arm around his friend’s shoulder and let Cas bury his face in him for once. They stood, for a long time in silence, wobbling only a little on alcohol-fuelled jelly legs, until they put one foot in front of the other, and started to walk back to Castiel’s home. 

 

*

 

“Dean. You can’t keep stringing her along like that.” Castiel whined. He was getting more pissed off with his friend by the minute. During the walk back (which had taken far longer than it should have because they were both really, very drunk), he’d tried to tell him how unfair it had been to choose Cassie of all girls if he wanted to feel something, and Dean had just been cocky and irritable about it (although he was grateful that he hadn’t brought Bart up even once). 

He pulled off his hoody and let it drop onto the wooden floor, landing in a pile at his feet. Despite everything they’d been through, everything they’d _done_ in the last two years, the fact that he’d had to spend the night watching as his best friend had flirted relentlessly with a girl he’d tossed out once before was eating him up. Yes, he’d started it by leading Bart on, but he hadn’t known Bart was into him, and he was jealous enough as it was. He’d just wanted for Dean just once to go through what he did every goddamned day.  

“Why not? She’s up for it.” Dean protested. He slipped his jacket off, sliding down his arms, and tossed it by his feet, landing in a crumpled heap with his own. Cas kicked out his feet irritably and sent them sliding. 

“Cassie was up for it because she likes you, Dean. And I don’t believe you like her the same way.” Cas said, frustrated. If it had been any other girl… maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. But then, maybe it would have. He just wanted Dean to be straight with him, for once in his life (or even better, be gay with him). Let him down or tell him what he wanted to hear, either way, just give him some fucking closure, please. 

“Of course I don’t. But why would I turn down an easy fuck?” Dean was unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off. He felt confused and irritated. He wished he hadn’t been so bothered by Bart. He was in two minds about it all, because it would kill him inside, quite literally, if Cas got himself a boyfriend that wasn’t him, but maybe Cas needed the distraction so that they could ride out these last six months before he was free. He wasn’t going to talk about it, wasn’t going to let that asshole’s name darken their atmosphere. He couldn’t even think about it. He let his jeans pool at his feet, and when he glanced up he caught Cas looking, or trying not to look. He felt suddenly bad, because he knew that despite the awful way he’d treated him, his friend still wanted him. 

“Maybe because she’s a human with feelings, Dean. If she doesn’t want the same thing… it’s not fair to her.” Castiel continued to complain. Dean got the impression he wasn’t talking about Cassie’s feelings any more. He was quite aware that he hadn’t been fair to Cas, and he definitely hadn’t been fair to himself. He looked into those bright blue eyes and once more found himself overcome. 

“Cas, you can’t give me that shit because you’ve never even had a fuck.” He said petulantly, but he was just winding him up now, hoping that he could piss him off and maybe they’d end up in bed together again. He’d been feeling so jealous all night that he just needed a reminder that Cas was his through and through. That’s what they both really wanted, after all, and right now he was drunk enough to go through with it. It felt like the best idea in the world. 

“Dean -” 

“Angel by name, angel by nature, right Castiel?” He teased.

“Don’t be such an asshole.” Castiel’s voice had raised, and Dean knew he’d hit that sensitive spot. Knew that he’d get a punch in the face if he wasn’t careful, instead of the kiss he was hoping for. Jesus, he was way too drunk. Couldn’t he remember what a bad idea this was? 

“I’m not being an asshole Cas, you need to lighten up.”  He said. Nope, apparently he couldn’t. He started edging closer to his friend, drawn towards him like a magnet. Castiel stood there, with his back against the door. He was breathing deeply, and Dean knew he was pissed off. He _was_ being an asshole, he knew he was really. But he wanted to drag it out, wanted to make him snap, because he was too much of a coward to do it himself. 

“Cas?” Dean whispered, still edging toward Castiel until they were in each other’s space, too close, closer even than usual. He was all but pinning him against the door. He’d just come up with a brand new tactic, but this one was dangerous. “How do you know?”

“Know what?” Cas asked petulantly. 

“You know… that you like girls. That you’re straight?” He was willing to let Cas lie to Bart (anything to put that asshole off the scent), but there was no way he was going to get away with lying to him. 

His friend went quiet for some time, and Dean knew he was onto a winner. He licked his lips in preparation, because it was going to be tonight. It was going to happen. He was going to have him where he’d always wanted him and god help him nothing was getting in his way. It had been way too long - four whole months - since they’d kissed, and he felt dry. 

“Uh… I don’t know… uh… breasts? Breasts are… nice?” Cas whispered, but he was as panicked as Dean ever had been, and he could see straight through the bold lie. 

“Yeah?” Dean whispered, inching his face closer to Castiel’s. He was going to do it now, just fucking tell him, because he was sick of dancing around the subject, sick of hiding it even if it was the stupidest idea in the world and it would kill him tomorrow. “I kinda thought you might want something else. I kinda think _I_ want something else. Someone else.” 

He couldn’t help but notice as Castiel’s breathing hitched, as his friend gave him just the smallest of nods. But it was all he needed to know, and he beamed, pressing forward and just gently brushing their lips together. There probably weren’t literal sparks but god it felt as good as it ever did when they kissed, particularly knowing that this time was real, that they weren’t hiding behind some ridiculous excuse. Dean’s hands went to his best friend’s waist and he licked inside his mouth as he had done before, exploring him again with his tongue. Castiel’s hands were in his hair and pulling at it and fuck did it feel good. He was filled with this crazy confidence that had come out of nowhere and before he knew it Cas’s hands were down on his ass and they pulled. They fucking pulled and it felt amazing and this was definitely going to happen because he’d denied it for far too long. 

The tight white boxers that he had on were getting tighter by the second. His cock was stretching out, pressing through them and straining for purchase against the boy he was so fucking in love with. And there he was, that sex god that hid inside his dorky friend. Castiel, god of all things unholy placed a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards, forced him to walk as he licked into his mouth, until he fell backwards onto the bed when his legs collided with the wooden frame. 

“Want you so fucking much.” Dean let out a growl, reaching up and grabbing his friend, pulling Cas on top of him. Castiel just smirked like the asshole he was and his hands went to his shirt buttons, undoing them one by one, because tormenting him beyond belief was his greatest pleasure. He kissed every patch of skin he uncovered, paying special attention to the scars that Dean only let him see, while he writhed and moaned and cursed. 

“I’ve always wanted you so fucking much.” Dean moaned in approval. 

Why the hell had they waited so long? He tried not to think about all the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, like his asshole father and their complicated friendship, because right now he was letting himself be loved and Cas just kept kissing every inch of him like he’d always wanted to and he was all but about to cry when Cas pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. Thinking about his scars was starting to freak him out, because they’d done this whole thing before, the kissing and making out, but it had never been real like this. He’d never been allowed to admit that for him it had always been real. He tried to push it away, because this wasn’t about him now, this was about them, about him and Cas, about how they were meant to be, and so he grabbed Cas’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head, sitting up to lick a line from his abdomen to his neck and smirking when his skin erupted in gooseflesh. 

He growled when Castiel dipped his hand into his lap and squeezed his hard-on. He would _not_ be coming in his pants today, thank you very much. So although Cas continued to rub his cock he concentrated on Castiel’s jeans, getting pissed off when he couldn’t get the bastard buttons to undo. As if sensing his anger, Cas stood up quickly and pulled them off himself. Now that the tables were evened out, Dean’s hands went straight for Cas’s perfect dick and the asshole moaned like you wouldn’t believe. Moaned like he was balls deep inside of him already and fuck it almost made him come. His cock twitched and he just couldn’t wait _any fucking longer._

“I want you to fuck me, Cas.” He whispered, begging, pleading. He’d have paid if Cas had asked. “Please…” He called, when his friend just swallowed and looked at him like it was a joke. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Castiel had shot him a wicked smile. He’d lifted his hands to his boxers and Dean had groaned, praying that Cas was gunna go straight for his hole because he needed him up there already. He’d practiced a bit on his own, he’d bought some toys and tried stuff out after Cas had shown him that side of himself, and he’d enjoyed it but he needed a real dick to give him the pleasure he needed. He needed Castiel’s. He groaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration, when Castiel enveloped his cock in his mouth, sucking on his head with fervour. He was so fucking needy, leaking everywhere like a little bitch but he couldn’t hold it in, the steady stream of pre-come that was escaping from him. 

“Not like this!” He insisted irritably, kneeing Castiel in the chest. Cas had blown him before, but he needed to be fucked. Needed it right this instant or he just might burst. He opened his legs, and would have grabbed his friend’s hand and shoved it up there had he not starting heading in that direction already. Cas trailed a finger from the base of his dick, along the perineum and hovered around his hole, circling the ring. He wanted to curse at him, to shout, to force him inside because that’s all that would do right now, but it was worth the wait. 

“Please!” He begged, and Castiel was fumbling with a bottle of lube he’d pulled out of his sock drawer. Dean watched with anticipation and lust as a finger was gelled up and when it pressed inside of him he bucked upwards, away from the sudden pain that was more of a pressure. But it felt so good when he’d adjusted, and Cas pumped him again and again and he was shouting out, he knew. Calling out either Castiel’s name or just incoherent sounds so loud that the whole fucking street probably knew exactly what they were doing. 

Another finger pressed in and he was writhing, feeling the pleasure or pressure or whatever the hell it was but it was bringing him apart, and when Cas grabbed his cock with his other hand and massaged his pre-come all down his length he was all but crying. 

“Fuck!” He cried. “Shit, fuck, FUCK.” He screamed, and he fucked his ass back on those fingers because Cas had hit that special spot within him and he hadn’t known anything could feel so amazing. Cas pushed another finger in for good measure and he was reduced to whimpers. 

“I’m ready, Cas. Please. I’m so fucking ready.” He begged. 

“Almost.” Castiel commanded with that deep fucking boss voice he reserved for sex. Dean was actually crying, he knew, when he looked up. His vision was blurry and his cheeks were wet but when he met that beautiful gaze he had to hold on to stop from coming because nothing had ever felt so intimate in his life. He felt a bit sorry for himself when Cas pulled his fingers out, but when he watched him stroke his own dick a few times and line up he sucked in a breath because he knew it was almost time. 

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, and he knew this was it, his final consent, his permission. 

“Just fuck me already Castiel!” He yelled, and he was rewarded for his patience. Cas pressed in. Pressed his cock into his tight fucking hole and bottomed out quickly, stretching him wide open and leaving him seeing stars. He thought fingers had been good until this. This was something else. Dean was writhing, spasming every time Cas thrusted in because that perfect, huge dick kept smacking into his prostate and he just had this way of keeping his rhythm and fuck he was going to blow his load way sooner than he wanted to but he had no other option. He was moaning, groaning, crying with every thrust, and it seemed like only minutes passed before he was literally screaming as he came so fucking hard, as his thick come spurted out of his cock and shot across their bodies, landing all over Cas’s beautiful abdomen and dripping back down on him. 

Castiel was coming too, he could feel himself being filled up before he’d come down, and he was still spasming inside, still riding out the aftershocks when his best friend collapsed down onto his chest and spread his come across them both. 

He’d never felt so in love. 

Dean kissed into Castiel’s hair as he gasped his breath into his lungs. They lay there for a few minutes, just lavishing the feel of each other so impossibly close, but when Cas’s cock had softened and it slipped out, leaving Dean’s hole leaking and protesting in discomfort, Dean groaned at the loss and the gross feel he’d left behind. So Castiel stood up, a little unsteadily. He grinned down at Dean, who smiled back at him, as he went to clean up in the en-suite. 

While Cas had gone to fetch a washcloth, the panic set in. 

 _Oh fuck. Oh FUCK._ Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell had he done?! He wasn’t supposed to let Cas find out how he felt! It wasn’t meant to be real! Not after what had happened last time… Holy fuck. He was such an idiot. He’d put him in danger because he couldn’t control his own fucking dick. That might have been amazing but it definitely wasn’t worth the drama. What the hell was he going to do now? Tell Cas it was a mistake and try and move on? He’d fucking blown it, hadn’t he? Completely and utterly. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t pretend it hadn’t meant the world. But he couldn’t tell the truth either! Couldn’t risk his safety over this! Shit, what was he going to do? _Think, think, think_. He’ll be back in five seconds. 

Castiel was over the fucking moon when he came out of the bathroom, butt naked and carrying a warm, wet washcloth. He looked straight at him and Dean knew he could see his panic straight away. Knew he looked like a stupid little cry baby who couldn’t control himself or his emotions. He was going to have to break his heart, wasn’t he? It was the only way to keep him safe. He couldn’t lie, but he could run. 

“Breathe.” Castiel hissed as he rushed to his side and sat him upright. 

He looked back at him with wide eyes. He was such a coward. He’d never forgive himself for this. Ever. “I can’t do this.” He whispered, and he grabbed his clothes as he stood. 

 

*

 

_Oh god. Oh god, oh god._

What the _fuck_ had he done!? He’d only had six months left to last… only six pitiful months when he’d wanted this for so fucking long, and he’d gone and blown it anyway. Cas knew, now. He knew. He knew he loved him and he knew he was in just as fucking deep and there was no way… no way they could go back to the way things _had_ to be right now, was there? 

He knew he was crying. He knew he was barely breathing. He knew he’d been walking this same block for the past hour or more, where he’d evaded his friend ever since he’d heard Castiel slamming his front door behind him, ready to give chase. Everything was hurting. His legs, his back, his ass, but his heart most of all.

What the hell was he going to do? The way he saw it, he’d only left himself with one real option. 

He couldn’t talk. He knew talking was better. He knew talking was good and it might help, but Cas knew, he _knew_. His friend wasn’t stupid, and he knew him so well that he’d know if he was lying. So he couldn’t talk, couldn’t try and tell him it was a mistake, couldn’t take back all those silent _I love yous_ that he’d left on his skin with his lips, because they were a permanent mark, now. Even if he said he didn’t remember, even if he said that he was so drunk he had no memory, Cas still knew. Maybe he could say he wasn’t ready, could use his panic as an excuse, but the lies weren’t fair, and they were beyond that now (he’d begged him for it, how could he not have been ready?) So he couldn’t talk. And things wouldn’t go back to normal even if he did.  

It had felt so amazing, being finally loved. It had been beyond what he’d imagined. The way Cas had felt against him and inside him, the way his kisses held real meaning like never before, it was better than heaven. The temptation to turn around, go back and apologise and explain everything, every goddamned thing, was so strong. But he couldn’t, could he? Because if he told, if he told then they’d all band together, the people he cared about, and do something stupid like try and save him, but it would backfire, because they’d get themselves killed. No, he couldn’t. He had to be strong, couldn’t even think of it as an option. It _wasn’t_ an option.

So he had to run, didn’t he? Had to keep running. It was going to destroy them both, wasn’t it?  

 


	18. "Stay safe."

“Fuck!” Castiel screamed out as he threw the cell phone against the wall. It had been Sam once again, and no amount of apologies from the younger boy would make up for the fact that Dean was refusing to speak to him. He brushed the tears quickly away from his eyes as he leant over and picked the phone back up, replacing the battery from where it had popped out of the back and switching it back on. His mom wouldn’t be impressed if he broke it in a fit of rage, after all. 

What the hell was he going to do? How had he been so stupid? And yet he hadn’t, had he? He’d done everything as he’d intended to do. He’d stayed away, hadn’t he? He’d not had a slip up once since the lake house, he’d kept his hands to himself and just been the good friend he’d always been. He’d waited for Dean to make the move, and he had, he’d made that move. He’d told him he wanted him. He’d said… 

It didn’t matter what he’d said, because his silence was saying something very different now. What Dean actually wanted was irrelevant, because he was so deeply in denial that he probably didn’t even know himself. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? That right there. Castiel _was_ the problem, being gay _was_ the problem. And that was why he was so completely screwed. 

The sounds of his own sobs were so loud that he hadn’t heard his mother come home. He hadn’t heard her call or her footsteps on the stairs, and he hadn’t even registered the door opening until she was climbing into bed next to him and wrapping an arm around his back. He hadn’t meant to get caught like this, not when he had no way of explaining his pain. He was so far from ready to talk about it or admit to anything, and whatever confidence he’d been building had just been completely crushed. 

He was completely mortified at being caught while in such a state, but he couldn’t bring himself to reject his mother, because he needed someone’s support right now and she was his second choice. He rolled over and buried his head against her chest, feeling her soft fingers against his cheek. She didn’t speak and he was grateful, because he had no idea what to say. 

They lay there together on the bed for what seemed like an age (because every second in this emotional hell was at least a year) but was probably only a few minutes, and eventually, he choked in a full breath and looked up to meet his mom’s eyes. She was looking at him suspiciously, chewing her lip with her eyes narrowed, and he knew she wanted to know what was going on and he was going to have to give her the general idea, but definitely not the details. He lifted his fist to his cheek, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his shirt while his mom rolled her eyes, because she was a neat freak at heart and he’d cried his way through the whole box of tissues already. Her hand went up to his head, fingers coursing through his hair, and knowing that he wasn’t alone helped him to calm down enough. 

“What’s happened, sweetheart?” His mom asked, and he sucked in a breath because he had no idea how to get the words out and he wished beyond anything he had the balls to talk to her about this, properly, because he’d already fucked up enough on his own but he just wasn’t _ready_ for anyone to know yet. 

“I… Dea… we fell out.” He managed after a pause. He could see the cogs turning in her mind, and he knew that she knew more than she was letting on because she’d always been so perceptive and hell, she probably knew more than he did about the way Dean was feeling. 

“Why did you fall out?” She asked, but he shook his head, because he wasn’t going to say and she probably knew that already. The eye contact became suddenly too much, and he turned onto his back, rubbing his eyes from the tears and trying, desperately trying to get a hold on himself. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Eve suggested, her tone calm. He felt almost irritable for a moment, had to hold his tongue to stop from snapping because he wasn’t a complete idiot. Or at least he hoped he wasn’t. And she was just trying to help. 

“He won’t answer my calls.” He said instead. “Sam keeps picking up and saying he doesn’t want to speak to me.” 

“Maybe he just needs time.” Evelyn sighed, but she knew as well as Castiel did that Dean was stubborn as a mule. That if he’d made his mind up on this there was no hope, particularly not when he’d fucked up so badly as he had done. Why had he done that? Why couldn’t he have just kept it in his pants for once? Because it was _Dean_. He knew. Because he was a complete and utter mess when it came to him. And now he’d blown it. He’d lost him forever. 

 

*

 

It had been hard for Evelyn over the last few days, keeping an eye out for Dean but not seeing him leave the house at all. Castiel had completely isolated himself, confining himself to his bed. He’d barely eaten, even when she’d sat with him and tried to persuade him to. He’d refused to get up and shower and was acting completely unlike himself. He obviously needed his friend, and she wasn’t sure she could fix this herself. 

Dean Winchester was faring no better. Not only was he still reeling from his stupidity, he’d had a tough couple of days with his father, because he’d not felt up to doing his usual chores (which consisted of running the entire fucking house). He had a few new marks to his stomach and a few new, deep purple bruises from the punches that had landed there the day before. He still had Sammy, thank god, his young brother was safe and sound, but after that first night he’d spent in his brother’s bed, crying his whole fucking heart out, he’d pushed him away too, because he had to process this on his own and no one, _no one_ could find out about this. Perhaps there was still a chance. If he could just make it through the next six months alone, if he could just last it out, maybe he could apologise and get Cas back and they could make it out of here, Sam with them. He’d put another few hundred dollars in his best hiding spot since the last time he counted, maybe it would be enough for a deposit. Maybe Bobby would give him a proper job over the summer and they could make this work. Maybe.

But six whole months of this pain? If his father even let him survive that long. The last few days had been the toughest of his life, and he’d been through so much already in his short eighteen years. Losing Castiel felt like losing a limb. Someone could have carved out a chunk of his body and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. It was agony, literal fucking agony. Castiel was all he’d ever had to cling on to, had pulled him through so much trauma. His love was the only love he’d ever known, and it was the only way he knew he didn’t deserve the treatment he was dealt daily. It was the only way he knew he was better than garbage on the street. But he had to last it out, had to stay away, because their lives were on the line. 

He heard the footsteps in the hall before he heard the knock, and he was pissed because Sam just kept trying to get him to talk and he _couldn’t_ talk, why didn’t he understand that? He needed _space_ and he needed to be _alone_ like he was always meant to be. 

“Sammy, I swear to god.” He yelled irritably, and threw his pillow at the door as it opened because he was fuming at the interruption, again, and it was easier to get angry than stay sad. But when his eyes landed not on his brother but on his best friend’s mother he went pink. “Oh! I… I’m sorry, I thought… I thought you were Sam.” He explained.

He knew he was forgiven when she smiled, but the look she gave him was terrifying. She stared at him, taking him in for a long moment. He knew she could see it all, that his red rimmed, puffy eyes and pink nose showed her just how fallen and broken he was. He felt dark right about now. Darker than he ever had, which was saying something. He watched her gaze flash to the mugs and plates he’d left by the bed, and he knew she’d worked out that he’d barely left the room but how could he when he felt like this? He was just glad he’d hid the razor blades, because he couldn’t have her knowing he’d resorted back to cutting up to deal with this all. 

“Dean.” She said quietly, and she was edging closer. He couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes anymore than he could stop the fear rising to his features. He loved her, but she was a threat. She’d always been so suspicious, always known more than she’d let on. He couldn’t let her help him, because it was his problem and he couldn’t put her or her son in danger. He just couldn’t. John had more friends than she knew about, and he couldn’t risk getting her in trouble. His father was untouchable, as he liked to remind his son. Why couldn’t she just understand that he was keeping them safe? Why couldn’t she see that he wasn’t worthy of it? Her help, her effort, her time, or her love?

When Eve reached the bed and her weight settled into the mattress he watched her carefully. He was starting to freak out now, because she should have figured this out and run already. She was putting herself and Castiel at risk just by coming here, and he really, _seriously_ wasn’t worth it. Her hand came up to rest on his shoulder, her thumb just coasting against his skin, and suddenly he was crying again, because the touch was so gentle yet so personal and caring and he didn’t deserve it after what he’d done. She pulled him against her chest while he sobbed, but his breakdown was short lasting, because he had to be strong. He swatted away the remaining tears as he pulled back, staring at his knees with her arm still hung across his shoulder. 

In time, he looked up to meet her gaze. He had a determination in his expression, and an apology, because he knew what this must be doing to Cas and he knew that was why she’d come here, but it hurt so desperately badly to have that acknowledged all the same. 

“You should at least talk to him.” She said, but he couldn’t, how could he? He’d fail as soon as he set eyes on his. He’d break when he saw his pain, and they’d both be killed because he was so weak. 

Dean shook his head. “I can’t.” He croaked, and even though she paused and waited, hoping he’d elaborate, he didn’t because he couldn’t. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, but the apology wasn’t meant for her. 

He was so broken, and she knew it. “I could help you.” Eve said quietly, and she was begging, really. “Please, let me help.” 

But he couldn’t. Why didn’t anyone see? If they knew what was happening then they should turn and run because he was so dangerous. _So_ dangerous, and becoming more so with every fucking day. John was the king of this house, and his subjects ruled the town. He was untouchable and unstoppable and his word was gospel. If he ever knew what he’d done, they’d all be ended. And it would be his fault, because he’d known all of this and he’d done it anyway. It had been his fault, because he’d let himself think he didn’t deserve it. Their happiness, their safety wasn’t meant for people like him. He only had himself to blame. 

It broke his heart to do so, but he shook his head. 

He knew she was hurting too. He knew he may not ever see her again, or if he did it would be because he was on death’s door. But he also knew he could do this. That he was strong, that he’d keep her and Sammy and Castiel safe because he’d take it for them, and he’d do his damnedest to try and stay alive so that maybe one day he could have what he wanted. Maybe one day he could get out. Six months and there was a maybe. 

Eve nodded sadly, and pulled him close in another hug. She planted a kiss to his temple before she stood, and as he watched her leave it was killing him inside. 

“Dean.” She whispered, turning at the door. “Stay safe.” 

 

_*_

 

“Dean!” He shouted again. He was catching up, because Dean was beginning to struggle. He could see the signs a mile away, even this far off, could see how his friend was clutching at his chest and wobbling on his legs. His asshole best friend had avoided him for the whole of the rest of spring break, had managed not to answer any of his calls, had ignored him when he’d picked up the courage to knock at the door. He was _not_ taking no for an answer. So Cas continued to chase him along the school corridor, because he couldn’t escape, here. 

Dean stumbled forward, and it was obvious to Cas that he was shutting down, so he grabbed out, taking a handful of his t-shirt into his fist and pushing him against the lockers with more aggression than he intended. He was pissed off, really, fucking pissed off, but he wasn’t trying to scare him, he just wanted to talk. Dean looked as if he had him at gun point, he looked terrified, and he was wriggling desperately, trying to get free. Castiel was scared too, he was petrified that he’d fucked this up irreparably, he just needed to get through to him, because this last week had destroyed him. 

He was about to open his mouth then, about to start trying to talk his friend down, but a voice called from behind. “What is going on here?” Mrs Peverell asked. It would be her, wouldn't it? The one teacher he had to keep sweet. She was his drama teacher, and he was her star pupil. She had connections, too, had promised to write him a good reference to give to her friends at the school he wanted a place at. Of course it was her, catching him pinning his friend against the lockers.  

Castiel shot her a surprised look, and Dean looked more like a rabbit in headlights than ever he had. The teacher’s gaze surpassed Castiel, and she was watching Dean with suspicion. She probably thought Dean was to blame. The messed up kid with poor grades was more likely to be the troublemaker than he was, after all. 

In the interruption, his grip had loosened, and Dean pushed free, tugging his shirt back down where it had ridden up a little. He looked, if possible, more scared now than he had a moment ago. Cas let him go, but kept his eyes trained on his friend, because there was something not right, here. Why was he so completely terrified? Surely he wasn’t _that_ scary? Dean just refused to look at him, and was that guilt in his expression? What the fuck was going on? 

With a hand on their shoulders they were dragged away together, separated by the slim frame of the once semi-famous drama teacher. She led them along the winding corridors, and pushed them unceremoniously into the isolation room together. Castiel cringed while Dean begged and pleaded with her, _please don’t leave me alone with him_ , like he was in some sort of danger. But the teacher raised her eyebrows, locked eyes with Castiel, and at his blank, confused expression, locked the door to the room with them both inside. 

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the sound of Dean’s pleas for escape or the sound of him hammering on the door. Only two weeks ago, they’d spent the night cuddled together in bed, and now Dean couldn’t even bear to be left alone with him. It wasn’t like he was some sort of sexual predator, was it? Dean had consented. This wasn’t all on him. 

“She’s not coming back.” Castiel snapped irritably after a few minutes, because he just couldn’t deal with the noise any more. Each pound on the door was hitting his heart with such force, each a reminder that Dean, for whatever reason, was taking back all of the things he knew he felt. After he’d spoken, the hammering stopped, and Dean’s hands stilled. His hands stilled, but so did his lungs and Cas could see how quickly he was descending again into that panicked state. He heard his desperate attempt at breathing, the struggled choke of air, and soon after, he watched his friend drop to the floor. 

Without hesitation Castiel rushed to his friend’s side. He called Dean’s name, and he could see that he was trying to respond. “Breathe, goddamnit.” Castiel all but shouted at him, and he lifted his hand to cup his cheek, keeping their gazes together as he whistled his breaths so loud that Dean could hear every one. The pain was unreal, and Castiel was vaguely aware that his tears had begun to fall, that Dean’s had, too. 

When Dean’s arms reached out to him, he wanted to take him in his hug, really, truly he did. He wanted to hold him and never let him go anywhere ever again, to keep him safe from whatever was plaguing him, but there was too much unresolved, and his anger won out. Dean dropped his arms back down, and sucked in a breath. 

“Cas.” His friend whispered, and although Cas shot him a half smile he knew his heart was about to be permanently destroyed. He couldn’t handle it, could he? Dean couldn’t deal with having a gay best friend, couldn’t deal with how Cas brought out that side of himself. His friend just had that look about him. He was going to be let down, he knew. At least this would be closure. “We can’t be friends.” 

Their silence was awkward and uncomfortable, but it was only a few minutes before Mrs Peverell returned with the principal in tow and stood, towering over both boys who were still sat on the floor. Cas just needed to get out of that room, like right this minute, so when she asked what had happened, and whether it was likely to be an ongoing problem, he’d pretended it was all an act. 

“No, it won’t happen again.” He’d said. “He’s made it very clear that we are no longer friends.” 

And shit, maybe he needed to work on controlling his emotions a bit better, because he’d tried to hide his pain but some of it had definitely escaped there. And Dean had noticed, too. He was watching him, looking almost regretful. He wished he wouldn’t do that. He was late for class now, and she let him go, the teacher, but she held Dean back. He was probably going to end up in detention over this, because he was sure she thought Dean was to blame. But he left all the same. 

 

*

 

Dean just wanted to be left alone, now. He’d been through enough, and that chance meeting with Castiel had gone just about as diabolically as he’d have anticipated. The last thing he wanted now was a nosey teacher poking around his personal business. But he’d had enough time to prepare his excuse, because he’d known what she’d seen on his abdomen, so when she asked to see his bruises, even though it took literally fucking everything he had left, he lifted his shirt to avoid mistrust, and told her he’d got them - because there were several fresh marks from all of John’s latest torments - when he went hunting with his father. 

But she hadn’t believed him. Why would she? You could basically see the finger marks on the one bruise, they were obviously not from trips and falls. So when she’d raised her eyebrows he’d made a big show out of being caught out, and rolled his eyes. 

“Ok, fine. I got into a fight with my brother.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes in a pretence of humiliation. Her eyes were as accusing as Evelyn’s, and she didn’t believe him one bit. 

“Are you safe at home?” She asked, and it almost broke him to lie, because of how much he wanted to be saved. 

“Yes, of course.” He said, staring into her eyes with a forced smile.


	19. If you love someone...

He should have known it was coming.

He’d heard the footsteps on the stairs, heavier than usual, slower than usual, all enough to suggest his father was once again drunk. He’d heard the slurred, anger-filled groans and heavy breathing outside of the door. He’d locked the door, thankfully, although it didn’t do much to protect him when John’s weight came barrelling through it. 

Dean had been stood in front of the sink, only now brushing his teeth (even though it was three in the morning), when the door fell, and missed him by only an inch or so, clattering down onto the toilet. He was so shocked that he let his mouth hang open, and the toothpaste dripped past his lips and down his front in surprise. The towering frame of his father was shadowed, the brighter light in the hallway shining down on his back, the bathroom only illuminated by a shaving light, because the fluorescent bulb above their heads had broken years ago and no one had known how to fix it so it had just been left. 

When John started towards his son, Dean swallowed, wondering what he’d done this time or who’d done what that meant he was going to have to take whatever John was going to deal him. The look in his father’s eyes was even darker than usual. Dean wondered if he was going to die tonight. 

But John didn’t speak, he just stared, stared with a deep seated anger and fury bubbling in his gut. Dean stared back, too scared to make a move, toothpaste still just dropping down his front. He knew if he made a move to spit in the sink, the moment would break and his punishment would be dealt early. 

The punishment came anyway. The fist caught him in his chest, dispersing the minty aroma of the toothpaste and knocking him backwards onto the sink. He dropped to the floor, winded, until his father’s hands grabbed his t-shirt and yanked him up, tearing the fabric as the cheap stitches lifted the boy’s weight. John was seething, his eyes burning holes into Dean’s own, and he lost it, lost every shred of semblance as he succumbed to the anger inside of him. He pushed, or threw, and Dean went flying, careening towards the tub and smashing through the glass shower screen. 

John bent over him, into the tub, landing more punches into his son’s stomach despite the shards of glass that were scattered all over him, some sticking out of his skin. 

The assault lasted for only a few more minutes before John stalked out, and once alone, Dean was left choking, desperately sucking in air that he couldn’t swallow down where his lungs were in spasm, and where his mind was screaming out with all of his yelling nerve endings, the pain more intense than any he’d felt before. His own blood was pooling everywhere, some of it dripping into the bath below. He lifted a hand, fingers gracing the skin where the pain was at its worst, and he grimaced because all he could feel was a huge chunk of glass there, and his fingers returned sodden with blood. 

This was it, surely? He was going to die. Right here, right now. At least when they found him Castiel might know, might finally know why he’d done what he’d done. Why he’d broken his heart. 

But he didn’t die, for whatever reason. Maybe the glass was stemming the blood flow, maybe it wasn’t as deep as it felt, or maybe, just maybe, luck was for once on his side. As his lungs began to relax out Dean knew he was going to live. He let the air swim in and the pain was unreal but he was at least alive. The pain meant he was going to live.

It took time, and it was really, really fucking difficult and absolutely agonising, but Dean did eventually pull himself out of the tub. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and grimaced, because he looked worse than he ever had. He was sweating, shaking, pale. And the glass, fucking hell the glass. He had to get it out. But maybe not while standing. So instead, he pushed the door away from the toilet, and sat on the lid. He had a towel ready to apply pressure once the glass was out, but when he looked down he just couldn’t even touch it, and instead he just passed out at the sight. 

He came to not long after, before he could bleed to death at least. If he couldn’t do this himself then he needed help. And fuck, where else could he get help at this time of night? He couldn’t go to the professionals, his dad would know and they’d be suspicious and it would all come out. He could try Bobby, he knew the old man would help him but his house was too fucking far. He’d be lucky at this rate to make it a block away. He only had one option. 

It had taken a lot to get the fucking gate to open. He was glad they hadn’t changed the code to the lock in the few months since they’d fallen out. He was searching the ground with his dizzy, hazy vision, looking for a stone small enough to toss up to Castiel’s window, but he wouldn’t need it. He stumbled forward, and was met by his old friend’s confused expression. 

Castiel was clutching a big glass bottle, like Dean was an assailant or a thief. It looked like he’d been drinking out here in the yard, alone. He also smelled faintly of weed, and it was probably Dean’s saving grace that the boy was drunk and high because he might have kicked him to the curb if he’d been sober. Cas’s head cocked to the side in surprise, and he actually smiled at him, for a brief second at least, however long it took for him to remember the things that had passed between them. It was breaking Dean to watch his realisation, because it still wasn’t ingrained in him, his initial response to him was to smile like they were still best friends. 

He was giving him the third degree, now. Castiel’s eyes roamed over his body, completely confused, while Dean wobbled on the spot. His own vision was dizzy, mixed up, and if he didn’t get Cas to help him soon he was going to pass out, he knew. Dean raised his hand, offered it out to his old friend in the hope that Cas might accept it in his inebriated state. Castiel did, lifted his fingers and let them thread into his own, but only for a small moment. 

Dean’s hand was soaked with his blood, and Cas withdrew his fingers to stare at them in confusion, wondering where the blood was coming from. 

“Hi.” Dean whispered, breathing shallow. His pain was so fucking intense, and he was pretty damned close to a panic attack to top it off. “Can I come in?” 

It was like the walls broke and Cas suddenly remembered their circumstances, because as he stopped examining his blood soaked fingers, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened. “Why?” He hissed bitterly, and Dean could only wince at the anger in his tone. But with the pause, Castiel softened, as if realising that he’d been trying to get Dean to talk to him for months, and he shrugged. “I guess you can come in. I’m leaving for school in two weeks anyway.” He stated, nonchalant. 

“You got in?” Dean’s voice was weak, but he was genuinely pleased for his friend, because he’d always wanted it, hadn’t he, to get in to that fancy LA performing arts school, to move to Hollywood and be the next big thing. There was still a chance, then, that he could follow him. _Just two weeks_. He’d have to start researching, have to look at cheap places to live in LA that his eight hundred bucks could get them. He’d have to beg Sammy to leave Jess behind. 

The pain overcame him suddenly, maybe he’d twisted slightly, maybe he’d turned, but Dean felt the life drain out of him as he passed out, and when he came to, Cas was holding him up, and pulling him towards the house with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. He carried him, full on bridal style, over the threshold, and lay him on his back on Eve’s brown leather couch. The pain was unreal, and Dean knew small sounds were escaping his lips. Castiel had, at least, figured out now that something was wrong, and Dean could only watch as Cas dragged his t-shirt up and over his head, taking care to lift the fabric over the glass fragment he’d now noticed. 

There were so many new scars. The abuse had been so much worse since they’d fallen out, because without Castiel, Dean had so much less to live for. There was the one on his side, still pretty fresh, just a graze that might not scar, where the bullet from the air rifle had caught him.  There was that ugly burnt line above his navel from the fire poker, that was new to Castiel too (he’d only forgotten to make John’s lunch). And there were new emotional ones Cas couldn’t see, like the ones he’d been given when John had tried to drown him for a second and third time, and the one where he’d been stripped naked and tied in the back yard for a few hours, how he’d caught the flu after that, just for fucking up the grocery shop. 

He had to come up with an excuse, didn’t he? There was no way Castiel wasn’t going to ask what the hell he’d done this time. He knew what he looked like right now. He knew his abdomen was torn and scratched and that most of it would heal but that huge fucking chunk of glass above his hip definitely needed removing. There were splinters surrounding it too, and when he looked up and Cas finally met his eyes, he could see his old friend beginning to panic, beginning to freak out, so he shook his head and begged for his help. 

“You need to go to the emergency room.” Cas whispered frantically. He was kneeling over him, staring at him with horror. 

“No.” Dean breathed. “Can’t.” 

His old friend shook his head in irritation, but Dean held the plea in his gaze. “What did you do?” Castiel asked. Yep, there it is. 

“I fell.” Dean lied, his voice now just a painful hiss. He was lucky that Castiel hadn’t noticed his back, it was just as scratched and bruised. “My parent’s wedding photo.” 

He thought for a second that he’d been caught out, because Cas narrowed his eyes and contemplated. That was a stupid excuse, there was no way near enough glass in that tiny photo. He was so lucky Cas was drunk, because eventually he just glazed over the fact. “What do you want me to do?” Cas asked. “I think I should get my mom.” 

“No.” Dean whined, voice strained. He lifted his hand and squeezed into Castiel’s arm. No one else could know about this, it was painful enough that Cas himself had to know. “Just you. Help me, please.” 

Castiel tried to protest. “I can’t, Dean, you need a doctor.” 

“No.” Dean begged. “Please. Cas, please.” 

His old friend rolled his eyes in annoyance, his inebriation clearly keeping the edge off of his realisation of the severity of this. Dean was still clutching his arm, but as his old friend’s eyes softened, he let his fingers slip down to his hand, and he lifted, guiding it to his wound. It was really fucking painful, when Castiel touched the glass, but he couldn’t let his pain show or Cas would freak out and run. He wished he’d been able to do it himself.

“What if you get permanent damage because I don’t know what I’m doing?” Castiel whispered, his voice frantic. Dean knew Evelyn was still upstairs, knew he was freaking out, but he had to make him do this, and quickly, because every fucking breath and every fucking word was so painful. 

“It’ll be on my own head. Please, Cas, get it out.” 

Castiel paused for a long, agonising moment, but eventually he nodded, and scurried off to the kitchen, returning with towels, a first aid kid, some paper tissue. He tossed up a towel for Dean to bite on, and they were both momentarily reminded of all the other times they’d had to do this, all the times Dean had come here for a patch up. 

“Ready?” Castiel asked, voice quiet. Dean nodded, towel between his teeth. “Three…two…one.” Castiel pulled the glass upwards, and Dean screamed. Even through the towel his voice echoed through the room, probably muffled enough that Eve wouldn’t have woken but still enough of a giveaway to his friend. Cas was pressing a towel down into the wound to stem the bleeding and he was just writhing in agony, thrashing on the sofa because it hurt _so fucking badly._ Cas must have realised how much pain he was in and taken pity, because his spare arm came over him and pulled him close, and all Dean could do was clutch back desperately and sob against him. 

It probably hadn’t been quite so life-threatening as it had seemed, because the bleeding took only a few minutes to stop. Castiel was washing the wounds now, and the water stung but the pain was nothing like it had been. Dean watched him working silently, to the best of his very unpracticed ability, and his heart ached. This boy, still his best friend, had been his saviour, on so many occasions and in so many ways. Hopefully Castiel was drunk enough, high enough, not to remember this had happened. He still needed him, so fucking much, and tonight was a giveaway. It was safer if he didn’t remember. 

Just for the next two weeks, at least. Maybe then… he’d have to count his money when he got home, make sure he had enough for a deposit, and then he could start planning. He could decide it all, now, where they were going to live, what he was going to say to his friend to win him back, how much of the truth he was going to tell (it was going to be all of it). 

 _I love you, Castiel._ He would say. _I’ve always fucking loved you. It was my dad, he was in the way. He’d have killed us both._

Their future was bright and theirs to write, and he couldn’t fucking wait. 

Now that Castiel had finished cleaning him up, he sat back on his knees. It was still painful, but Dean pulled himself up into sitting, with only a little wince, and took the washcloth from Castiel’s hands, putting it to use in cleaning up his blood from the seats (thank god for leather) and drying them roughly off with the towel he’d used to chew. When he was done, Castiel joined him on the couch. 

The temptation was too strong, and Dean leaned suddenly forward, pulling Castiel into a hug and burying his face into his friend’s neck. It made him feel complete, and the little hum that Cas let out warmed his heart. Slowly, Dean pulled back, but he tugged and Cas followed suit, until they were lying together, limbs tangled like they were always meant to be, staring into each other’s eyes. 

For a brief moment, Dean contemplated telling him now. He could just get it over with, just tell the truth, because he wanted his friend back, needed him. If Castiel had asked at that moment, he’d have told him everything. But he didn’t. He didn’t and with the hesitation Dean’s resolve faltered, and so Castiel’s misguided assumptions continued. Dean was glad, because he still had two more weeks until he was safe. He found himself instead caught up with lust, because he was, in fact, in love with Castiel, and being this near him again was dredging up not only emotions but his desires, too. Castiel wasn’t questioning it now, what the fuck was going on, so maybe he wouldn’t again. He probably thought he was dreaming, and actually, if he kissed him it might seem more likely. 

He did it hesitantly, giving his friend every opportunity to escape, but Cas grinned and he beamed back at him before their lips connected. His friend’s lips were more chapped than they used to be, and he could taste the scotch he’d been drinking and the joint he’d been smoking when his tongue licked into him. Dean’s hand found the back of his neck and he pulled because he needed Castiel as close as he could have him, and Cas pulled him, too. Their growing erections started to rub against each other’s and everything was like it was meant to be again. 

After a while Dean began to grind his hips forward, and Castiel gasped, his hands trailing down to Dean’s jeans and roughly tugging open the buttons. His fingers, long and deft, dove inside, and massaged his length through the fabric of his boxers. Dean let out a long, slow whine as Castiel dragged them down and his cock bobbed free, before wriggling out of his own pyjama pants and taking them both in his one strong hand, applying a glorious amount of pressure as he stroked them both as one. 

The harmony of their movements and Castiel’s hand was perfect, and Dean moaned into his friend’s mouth, his tongue pressing deep into him while Cas pulled tight against them both. Dean was leaking precome everywhere, his needy cock throbbing because this was all so dangerous and unexpected that it wouldn’t take him any time at all to blow his load, but Castiel was trembling and he was secure in the knowledge that he was not alone. Cas continued to stroke them as they continued to grind forward and it was completely perfect, completely agonising, complete bliss. 

As Dean came, he interrupted the kiss as he groaned and shook out his release. Castiel either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that his hand was now covered in come because he just kept going as Dean’s cock twitched and softened and it was hyper stimulating him to the point that he was twitching and shaking. But it felt really fucking good when Castiel exploded too, and his own come poured out, mixing with his own. 

After they’d cleaned up, they lay together for a long while, until Castiel had fallen asleep in his friend’s arms. It broke Dean completely, took every fucking shred of courage to leave him on the couch, asleep, alone. 

 

*

 

He’d counted his money after that had happened. It had all been there, all eight hundred, and Bobby hadn’t paid him yet for the week he’d just worked. He’d felt hope swelling in his gut like it hadn’t ever before, because it was finally happening, there was an end in sight, a light at the end of a life long tunnel. He’d used the local library's computers to look online for cheap apartments. Maybe if he spoke to Bobby, asked to borrow a car, he and Sam could go out there, scout out a place, he could land a job. They could do this, it was going to happen. 

Castiel was leaving today. Or at least, by his count he was. He’d seen them packing boxes into their car, watched from the window. And it hurt a bit, sure, but he was excited all the same that any day now he’d hop into a car and chase them down with Sammy in tow. Any day now. Out of habit, he turned away from the window and crept over to his bed, lifting up the mattress ready to count out his savings and mentally spend it all on their new life.

Dean was ready to do that, but fate had other ideas.

It was gone. All of it. Every last dollar. He’d only checked it the day before, and he’d been in the habit of moving its location every couple of days - always on high alert of his thief of a father. But he’d beaten him, again, and he’d taken it all. It wasn’t just money. He didn’t _want_ money. He wanted the escape the money would have bought him.

Dean dropped to his knees in horror, his mouth hanging open slightly as he began to shake with the realisation that his hard work had all been for nothing. That his planning had all been for nothing. His heart smashed painfully against his ribcage and he couldn’t breathe, because the nightmare had him trapped, perhaps forever. Every time there was so much of a chance of waking up he’d be drawn back under. 

Hope wasn’t meant for people like him. 

Maybe he should get up now and run, just run, sprint outside and beg them to take him and Sammy with them. But he’d find them, wouldn’t he? John would find them and he’d kill them, he’d kill all of them. Dean was crying now, too, sobbing into his hands because there was no one who would offer him a shoulder, any more. He couldn’t even hold back the noise because his despair was so fucking great that he had no control. 

He had to get out. He should just run anyway. If they ran far enough, maybe they could go to the police in LA, maybe he could get so far away that John had no power. He had to try. He couldn’t be stuck here, alone, forever. 

Dean was all but ready to stand and give his poorly thought out plan a go, ready to spill his heart out to the boy he loved and his mother, but once again, fate had other ideas. Hope _really_ wasn’t meant for people like him. 

His door careened open, behind it his tormentor with a wicked smile. All Dean could do was submit. Submit like he always did. He wasn’t strong enough, physically or mentally, to take his father on. John’s eyes darkened at the sight of Dean’s tear-ridden cheeks, at his sniffling nose and stricken expression. His hand grabbed out, taking Dean’s shoulder and pulling, yanking the boy up to his feet and dragging him out onto the landing and down the stairs, through into the kitchen. 

John pulled open the door to the oven, and forced his son’s head inside. He switched the gas on. 

The realisation came with pain that was utterly destructive, and ripped him apart until every semblance of self had been completely destroyed. John owned Dean. He owned him, and always would. No matter what he did, who he tried to tell, who he loved, where he went. John owned him. He’d been stupid to think he could get away, stupid to think that there was more his life could be, stupid to think that he deserved something more than he’d been dealt. 

And he’d been selfish. He had to let Castiel go, because he was worth so much more than he was. He would just drag him down, hold him back. Whatever he had to go through, Castiel deserved to be free of his pain. 

Before he was dead, John did let him out of the oven. He wasn’t going to die today. Not now at least. Maybe at his own hand later that night, maybe not today but tomorrow, maybe next week or maybe in fifty years. Probably just when John said he could. 

But these problems were his and his alone. He had to let Castiel go. 

If you love someone, you set them free, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say but this story was always going to end like that. It's hard even for me! 
> 
> Someone find me some fluff to cheer me up, pls?


End file.
